The Heart on the Line
by jsq
Summary: It was obvious to everyone that eventually one of them would break. No one really believed it would be her. Contains season 5 spoilers!
1. Chapter 1: Enough is Enough

**A/N: I thought I would pass the hiatus and cope with spoilers by finding out whether or not I'm capable of handling a multi-chapter story. I have this fic completely outlined to guarantee that I don't leave it unfinished. It will likely be 11 chapters, and it will also be my first attempt at angst. Here's hoping for the best!**

**Spoilers: Refers to spoilers for upcoming season 5 episodes**

**Disclaimer: Not Mine**

It was irrational. There was absolutely no reason for her to be standing in front of his door at 11:30 PM on a Friday. If anything, she should be at home, in her own bed, catching up on some much needed sleep. He was probably with his girlfriend- that was the logical assumption. Rationally, she knew that were he to open the door, he wouldn't be alone, and she would be left to try to explain why she was showing up unannounced at another woman's boyfriend's home, at an hour way too late to be innocent. Unfortunately, she had left rationality behind twenty minutes ago; a truth that made her feel as though she were drowning. She just couldn't get rid of the (_metaphorical)_ knot in her stomach, couldn't stop the feeling that a (_metaphorical)_ fist was squeezing at her heart. Why hadn't he called? Why, when she called, did his phone go straight to voicemail? Girlfriend or no, Booth called, Booth picked up his phone. These were things she knew to be true, what she counted on, especially now when he was supposed to have been back in D.C. over four hours ago...especially when he and the kid psychologist had been called off on some hush-hush assignment and had been gone for two weeks without a word. She was a genius, she knew what "hush-hush" meant, it meant "dangerous." It meant that there was even less of a guarantee than usual that he would make it back in one piece. The fist around her heart squeezed tighter, and she knocked sharply on the door in front of her.

* * *

_Two Weeks Earlier:_

Special Agent Seeley Booth tapped his foot in frustration as he waited for his partner to tear herself away from the Native American remains and help him come up with a solution to their problem. "Bones, the man's been dead for three hundred years, he can wait an hour. We need to figure out what we're going to do about this now."

She didn't even look up. "Booth, this is a female. How is it possible that you've managed to learn nothing about the human skeleton in the five years that you've been frequenting this lab? I promised I would help with verification for the Jeffersonian's special exhibit on the Powhatan Confederacy. This is my work, and it is important. Besides, I really don't see what there is for us to figure out. What's done is done, and there's nothing we can do about it."

Booth fought the urge to grab the human skull out of her hands and hurl it at the wall. He needed to find a way to release his anger, but desecrating human remains probably wasn't the answer. If shooting a plastic clown got him suspended and sent to therapy, he could only imagine the repercussions for destroying a skull. Bones would certainly never speak to him again, and he'd be forced to talk to a psychiatrist...which was exactly what had started this whole mess. Still, it might be worth it for the few seconds that he could pretend that Indian's skull was Sweets'.

"Bones, the book was released yesterday. He didn't listen to us, he didn't make any changes, and now everything he wrote about us is out there for everyone to read."

Brennan finally looked up at her partner and rolled her eyes. "While I admit that I wish Sweets had taken us more seriously when we tried to highlight the errors underlying his conclusion, I really don't think it's anything to be so upset about. It's a psychology text; I would hardly say it's something EVERYONE is going to read. In fact, I would be hard-pressed to think of ANYONE who might read it. Really, Booth, there's nothing to worry about."

Just then a loud squeal pierced the lab, as Angela came running in, holding an object above her head as if in victory. Hodgins and Cam, who had been trying to pretend they weren't eavesdropping, finally dropped the act and joined Booth and Brennan on the platform.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" Angela swiped her key card quickly as she ran towards the partners, a triumphant smile on her face. When she was standing in front of them, she thrust the book that she had been waiving above her head in their faces. "Now I have proof, right here,in black and white."

Brennan looked at her friend as if she had spouted a second head, and Booth narrowed his eyes. "Angela...," he started, menacingly.

"No, no, don't even try to deny it, " she said, smiling sweetly, "the two of you are completely in love." She held the book up again. "A professional says so."

Cam managed to hold back her laughter, but Hodgins wasn't quite as successful. Booth shot the bug man his scariest ex-sniper death glare, silently daring him to let one more chuckle fall from his lips. People thought this was funny, another piece of ammunition for teasing them, but Booth was furious. The rage he experienced when reading the pre-release copy of Sweets' book had been growing with each passing day. Booth was starting to think they would be lucky if shattering an old skull was the worst of what he did.

Sweets had always annoyed him a bit with his arrogant psychological mumbo jumbo, but over time the kid had grown on him. Booth had even started to respect him. He had never thought that Sweets could be deliberately cruel, but he really had no other explanation for what the psychologist had done with his book. Sweets knew, KNEW, how Booth felt about his partner. He knew he loved Bones, yet he warned the agent not to tell her, convinced him that what he felt was fake, the product of surgical trauma. Yet, he turns around and writes a book announcing to the world that Booth and Brennan are madly in love with each other. Was the kid trying to torture him? It certainly felt like a personal attack, especially when it was obvious from Bones' non-reaction that the conclusion was so far from the truth that it didn't even warrant a passing thought. Was that Sweets' goal all along? To show Booth exactly how unrequited his love for his partner was? Well, if so, mission accomplished. Now he just had to figure out how to make the kid pay. "Sweets is a dead man."

At his mumbled words, Brennan cast a worried glance at her partner who was repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists. "Booth," she said hesitantly, "you know I can't let you kill the boy."

He couldn't help but smile in response to Bones' serious expression. He needed desperately to find a way to stop himself from reaching a breaking point. "Don't worry Bones, " he tried to keep his tone playful, "I'm not really going to kill your baby duck...of course he doesn't have to know that." His voice darkened as he spotted the psychologist entering the lab.

Before Booth could make a move, he found himself in the embrace of what he could only describe as a bouncing brunette whirlwind.

"I am so, so totally happy for you guys!!!!!" Daisy squeaked, rushing over to hug Brennan, who instinctively took a big step back. "I mean, everyone's known it for years, but now we can all talk about it. Vincent, Arastoo and I were talking with Paul from security, and we decided that you HAVE to have your wedding here at the Jeffersonian. How romantic would that be! Oh, and now you two can double date with me and Lancelot. We're going to have so much fun. Do you guys like bowling? I-"

"ENOUGH!" Booth silenced the enthusiastic intern and the rest of the lab with a roar. He turned to glare at each one in turn, noting that Sweets couldn't even look him in the eye. "Okay Squints, listen up, who else has read this book?" He yanked the offending hardcover from Angela and held it up high. To his chagrin, every person in the lab held up his or her hand, including the courier who was just dropping off some papers for a signature. "Fine, well, allow me to set the record straight. This book is bullshit. You all wasted your money. Dr. Brennan and I are partners and professionals who care too much about our work to engage in a relationship that could put that work at risk. Understood?"

He looked around the room for confirmation and was pleased that the majority of the squints were nodding with fear in their eyes. Bones' expression was unreadable, as usual, but Angela, Cam, Sweets and Hodgins were smiling at him condescendingly. "Oh for God's sake, people, I have a girlfriend!" Okay, so that wasn't exactly the truth. He had gone on three sort-of dates with Catherine, and she had even bought him a tie, but he hadn't seen or talked to her in three weeks. She was nice and pretty, and she should have been perfect for him, but she wasn't, and he was too much of a gentleman to string her along...but the Squints didn't need to know that. "That's right," he said, noting his friends' shocked expressions, "a girlfriend. And she," he pointed to Bones, "is currently dating my boss. So. Back. Off."

Everyone turned to Brennan, who was taking in her partner's angry stance. She didn't know what to think of his outburst. She wasn't sure exactly how she felt about his reaction to Sweets' book. Was it so horrible, the idea of them loving each other? She was sure she loved him, now that she had come to accept his concept of love. In truth, she had loved him since he had flown to New Orleans to help her all those years ago. Of course, she was also certain that her feelings were unreturned and that, even if they weren't, there was no way that she could cross the line he had so clearly drawn. Didn't he trust her? Did he think that she would betray him by ignoring the parameters he had placed around their relationship? She found that question painful. Hadn't she done exactly as he had asked for three years? Didn't he realize how much she valued him and that she would never risk their friendship?

Still, it seemed important to back him up now, so she nodded at her friends. "It's true, I've been dating Andrew for several weeks now. Obviously this would be an untenable situation were Booth and I 'in love'," she stated calmly, forming finger quotes around the phrase 'in love.' Booth looked at her gratefully, and she smiled at him, happy to have said the right thing for a change. Who cared if it was a lie? Who cared if she hadn't actually seen Andrew since they had coffee together a month ago? He had tried to kiss her, and she had thought she wanted it too, but at the last second, she turned and offered him her cheek, rather than her lips. He had smiled wistfully and said that he hoped they could be friends. She had smiled back, not telling him that she already had enough friends. He was a nice man, and there was no need to hurt his feelings. Still, if Booth had a girlfriend, it would just be easier for everyone to think that she was seeing someone too. They couldn't pity her if she were also dating. Brennan had learned long ago that the only thing that could make personal hardship worse was the pity of others. She preferred to deal with her pain privately.

She could see that Angela was forming a rebuttal, when a strong Southern voice interrupted. "Seeley Booth! I don't know why I even bother looking for you where you are supposed to be anymore," Caroline Julian stood with her hands on her hips, taking in the crowd gathered on the platform. "Do I look like someone who has time to be driving all over the city, hunting down your sorry ass? I guess it's my own fault- I suppose I should have known you'd be here, even though you haven't had a case with Dr. Brennan in a week and a half, and you have absolutely no professional reason to be at the Jeffersonian. Taking in an exhibit, Seeley?"

Booth sighed, "What do you need Caroline?"

"I need you to pack your bags and come with me, _Cherie_. I require your services on a case. You too, Doogie," she said, spotting Sweets in the crowd.

"What about me?" Brennan asked, expectantly.

"Oh no, Morticia, this case is all about the living, not the dead. Not exactly your skill set."

Brennan stalked over to Booth. "Did you tell her what they called me in high school?," she whispered angrily.

Booth flashed her his best smile, and said quickly, "I don't know what you're talking about Bones, well, Caroline, come on, lead the way." Booth didn't care where he was going, or even that Sweets would apparently be accompanying him. In that moment, he was grateful for any distraction. Maybe by the time he got back he could figure out some way to resolve the increasingly unmanageable feelings he had for his partner.

"Wait," Brennan exclaimed, "Where are you going? When will you be back?"

"Sorry, _cher,_ this one's strictly hush-hush. We shouldn't be gone more than a couple weeks, though. Boys, follow me."

Booth waived as he followed the prosecutor and the psychologist out of the lab.

Brennan resisted the urge to stamp her foot like a small child. Instead, she whirled around to face her co-workers. "Doesn't everyone have work to do? This was still a workplace, last I checked," she snapped.

Everyone scurried back to their stations, knowing it was going to be a long two weeks.

**TBC**


	2. Since You've Been Gone

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed or added this story to your favorites and story alerts. I'm going to do my best not to let you down. By the way, I have a whole new level of admiration for you fanfiction writers out there who post multiple updates per week. I'm going to do my best to post twice a week, but it's tough to find time! Some of you guys are amazing...or perhaps you just don't sleep.**

**Chapter 2: Since You've Been Gone.**

"Mr. Nigel-Murray, do you have something to ask me, or are you planning to simply stand over my shoulder, mumbling to yourself for the rest of the afternoon?" Temperance Brennan turned from the centuries-old skeleton she had been examining in order to look pointedly at the nervous intern.

"Well...yes..umm...what I was...yes...Did you know that the word 'mumbling' comes-"

"Mr. Nigel-Murray!" Dr. Brennan was practically shouting. "Allow me to restate my question. Do you have something of any relevance to any of the work going on in this lab to ask me?"

"Ah, well...nothing that can't wait until tomorrow," Vincent answered meekly, practically tripping over the stairs in his haste to exit the platform.

Brennan sighed as she watched the intern scurry away, feeling a twinge of guilt. Mr. Nigel-Murray was already overly anxious and easily intimidated- having her shout at him wasn't going to do much for his self-confidence. Not that it was her job to worry about his self-confidence. Still, she knew that she had grown increasingly irritable over the last two weeks, and she felt badly for taking it out on her coworkers. There was only one person to blame, and he should be home in- she glanced at the clock for what must have been the fiftieth time that day- two hours. It had taken her two days to get any information as to Booth's whereabouts. She still had no idea where he was, or what he was doing, but she finally managed to convince Cullen to tell her his expected date of return. After she had the date, it was relatively easy to convince Charlie to tell her approximately when Booth's flight would arrive. The flight number and exact time of arrival couldn't be disclosed as a matter of security, but at least she had something- enough to keep her from losing her mind. She suspected that she might have been able to get even more information had she gone to Hacker, but it felt wrong to use him in that way. She was tempted, though.

It frightened her how unsettled she was by Booth's absence. It wasn't as though they had never been separated before; in fact, she had been gone for six weeks over the summer. This time felt different. She had thrown herself into her work with the Powhatan exhibit, a tactic that had always served her well in the past, but this time not even bones could distract her from the feelings of anxiety that seemed to center around her partner. She knew that the mystery surrounding his current case was part of the problem, but even that couldn't explain the extent of her preoccupation with his quick and safe return. If she were the type of person who believed in that sort of thing, she would even say that she was having a premonition- one that she was losing him, had already lost him. It was illogical, but the phrase 'Abandoned partner, walking' kept circling through her thoughts. So, she supposed, it was a good thing that she wasn't the type of person to believe in something as silly as a premonition. In two hours he would land in D.C. and would call to complain about the uncomfortable hotel he had been forced to stay in and the disgusting food he had been forced to eat. Two hours, and she would have solid evidence (_always preferable to vague feelings_) that he was fine, that they were fine. With a determined nod, she returned her focus to the task at hand.

* * *

By 7:30, the lab was practically empty; it was Friday night, after all. Angela had left fifteen minutes earlier after trying and failing to convince Brennan to join her and Cam for a "girls night out." Brennan realized that she was excruciatingly tired. The past two weeks of practically non-stop work and inexplicable worry over Booth were finally starting to take their toll. What was the phrase Angela always used? _Hitting a wall_. Yes, Brennan had definitely hit a wall. She just wanted to get the "Bones, I'm back" phone call, then go home and straight to her comfortable bed.

She looked around the lab and realized that she had authenticated the remains of every Powhatan Indian available. With nothing left to do on the platform, she decided to return to her office to catch up on email while waiting for Booth to call. By 9:30, she had responded to all of her email and caught up on an entire week's worth of paperwork, but she still hadn't heard from Booth. He should have been back two hours ago, even allowing for time to grab his luggage from baggage claim, he should have been able to make it home by now. The thought _Maybe he didn't make it back_ was quickly followed by _Maybe he's with Catherine_. The first thought was baseless and ridiculous; the second thought was plausible, yet distinctly unpleasant. Neither was easily dismissed.

_Wait a minute, I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan. I do not sit around waiting for men to call me. _Though she wished she were strong enough to leave it at that and just go home and to bed, she decided to compromise and call Booth herself. She would work on pulling herself together, analyzing this unhealthy attachment she seemed to have formed, tomorrow. Quickly dialing the number she knew by heart, she was disappointed when the call went straight to voicemail. She left a message asking Booth to call her, saying she needed to check in about an old case. The lie felt silly, and it would have been unnecessary even a month ago, but for some reason she felt it essential that Booth not know her call was purely personal. Figuring that his flight must have been delayed and realizing that there was absolutely nothing left to do at the lab, Brennan decided to head back to her apartment. He would probably return her call before she even made it home.

* * *

By the time she walked through the door of her apartment, Brennan still hadn't heard from Booth. She had called him twice more, each call going directly to voicemail. She tried to make herself relax. There were a million reasons why he might not have called her. Something could have come up with the case, and they might not have been able to leave on schedule. He could have forgotten to charge his phone. He could be having sex with his girlfriend. He could still be so upset by Sweets' book that he didn't want to talk to her. The possibilities were endless, but it was that last one that had her on the verge of a panic attack. It was so unfair. She had been so careful, played by all of the rules. She never gave any hint of feeling more for him than one would feel for a partner and a very close friend. She dated other people, pretended that it didn't matter to her that he dated other people. She did everything she felt he had asked of her when he drew his metaphorical line. The idea that he would now freeze her out because of something Sweets wrote was unbearable. If he would just call, just act like he always did, things would go back to being okay. She just wanted things to be the way they had been before. That's all. She wasn't asking for more or better, just for the same.

Determined to do anything to break her increasingly irrational train of thought, she decided to clean her already immaculate apartment. She wiped at specks of dust that didn't exist, swept up crumbs that weren't there. Wandering listlessly through the living room holding a bottle of Windex, she found herself pacing in front of her front door. She was startled to remember that this was exactly what she used to do after her parents disappeared.

Temperance was logical and realistic, even at fifteen. She knew a week into her parents' disappearance that they weren't coming back. She stopped expecting them to be home when she arrived from school, stopped waiting for her mother to call up the stairs, reminding her to come eat dinner. Her parents were gone, and there was nothing she could do about it. The only thing she could do was to make sure that nothing like that ever happened to her again. She focused all of her energies on her brother, Russ. She watched him closely, trying to ascertain his state of mind. She would panic when he wasn't home exactly when he said he would be. Their childhood home had a glass front door. On days when he was late, Temperance would pace back and forth in front of that door. Watching for him, imagining all of the bad things that could have happened while he was out of sight. When he would come home, she would be so shaken from those minutes of panic that she would snap at him. It had seemed so perverse- she would be desperate to see him until he walked through the door, at which point she would just get furious. She doubted poor Russ ever understood her behavior, and eventually he left anyway. The sad thing was, she hadn't seen it coming. When, two days after Christmas, he announced that he was going to work out West and leaving her behind, she had been stunned. For all of her vigilance, she had still been caught off guard. The fact that she been surprised hurt her more than anything ever had. She had already come to accept that other people were likely to let you down, but at that moment she also realized she could let herself down. What would become of her if she couldn't be counted on to protect herself?

Even though the situations weren't remotely similar, she was feeling the same way about Booth right now. It was like she was a little girl again, waiting for someone she loved to come home, feeling terrified that he might not. As with Russ, she had been vigilant. At first, she had refused to let her guard down around him at all. Once he had charmed his way past most of her defenses, she took comfort in the boundaries he placed around their relationship. They provided a framework in which to place their interaction. After she believed he had been killed, she took some time, built a few more walls. Finally, after the brain tumor, she watched him; she watched him as if her very life depended on it. She noticed the foot with which he lead when he took the stairs, his choice of ties, his choice of breakfast cereal. She paid attention. She was careful. She knew what could be lost when one was careless. Still, for all her vigilance, here she was unable to fight this choking feeling that something was _wrong._

There was no rational explanation for her fears. She couldn't even tell anymore what it was she feared- that something had happened to Booth, or that he was replacing her with his new sexy scientist. Sure, things had been a little weird between them before he had been forced to leave for this case, but there had certainly been times in the past when things between them had been even weirder. She could not explain why the unmet expectation of a phone call had pushed her to the edge, but it had. Pushing the reasonable part of her, the part that wondered exactly who she was allowing herself to become, aside, she grabbed her keys and ran out the door.

**TBC**


	3. The Trouble with Baby Ducks

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, alerted or added this story to your favorites. It really means a lot. I don't know what the weather is like where y'all are, but we are finally getting sunshine and warmth after what has been (for us in the south) a brutal winter. It made writing this somewhat angsty chapter kind of difficult. Anyway, let's find out what Booth has been up to....**

**Chapter 3: The Trouble with Baby Ducks**

This night was never going to end. Not only was it never going to end, but it was going to just keep getting more and more surreal. Booth was going to have to take out his gun and shoot something. Really, it was the only viable option. The only remaining question was exactly what to shoot. It would have to be a 'what', though right now he really wanted it to be a 'who'. Specifically, he was ready to kill Lance Sweets. Booth had had high hopes for this assignment. Some time away from D.C. and his partner had seemed like a good way to clear his head, to get it together. He hadn't even been too bothered by the fact that Sweets would be coming along. He figured that everyone would be so focused on the case that there would be no time for all of the prodding and analyzing that were quickly becoming the bane of his existence. He had been wrong.

Sure, the case had been both interesting and important- a rare opportunity to actually collaborate with the CIA and Department of Homeland Security. It had involved a homegrown terrorist cell operating out of Idaho, of all places. Booth had been called in due to the fact that he had actually encountered one of the cell's leaders during his time in the Rangers, and Sweets had been brought on to be part of the team working on a profile of the cell. In the end, they had been able to prevent an attack aimed at the nation's food supply and had quietly taken down the cell, the American public never knowing just how close it had been. Professionally, Booth was proud to have been even a minor participant in such an operation. Personally, two weeks spent bunking with Sweets had left him closer to the edge than ever before. Maybe he really should start looking for work in the private sector. It was time, Booth thought, to have an employer who didn't expect a man in his late thirties to share a hotel room while on assignment.

The kid had been relentless. While, mercifully, the two did not have to interact during the day, the evenings had become Booth's personal purgatory. He wasn't sure what he had done to merit this exact form of punishment, but it must have been bad. Each night Booth would return to the hotel, exhausted from the day's work, only to find his little baby duck waiting to pester him to death. The worst part was, he was trapped. It wasn't as though he could stay out all night- they were in rural Idaho, there was no where to go. So, each night, Sweets would try to question Booth about his reaction to the book, while Booth would do his best to glare Sweets into silence.

There had been a time in the not-so-distant past when Booth might have been willing to be a bit more forthcoming with the psychologist, but those days were over. Booth was tired of being picked apart and played with- especially by a twelve-year-old. Any respect he had for Sweets had disappeared the minute he read that book's conclusion. He had hoped that his lie about having a girlfriend would be enough to shut Sweets up for a while, but it seemed to only increase the psychologist's interest in his (_nonexistent)_ love life. He rolled his eyes, thinking back to the night before.

* * *

"_Okay, man, I'm declaring a zone of truth, shrink hat off."_

"_Gee, Sweets , I don't know. Are you sure it's safe to declare a "zone of truth" without your shrink hat on?"_

"_Ha, ha, Booth. That's fine, make fun of me all you want. We both know that your hostility is simply a method of self-preservation, and I am willing to allow you that. We also both know that you totally need to talk, and I'm telling you that I'm available...as a friend."_

"_Well, then, 'friend' you want to talk about your book, fine. Let's talk about your book. Let's talk about the fact that seven months ago, you took it upon yourself to give me scientific proof that I was absolutely not in love with Temperance Brennan. Fast forward to the present when you have a boring-ass, irrelevant book to market and suddenly Bones and I are the greatest love story never told. Let's talk about that."_

"_Wait, dude, you think that I'm using you and Dr. Brennan to sell my book?"_

_Sweets looked devastated, but Booth was beyond being able to feel anything resembling sympathy for him. "No, Sweets, that's not what I think. It's what I know. And you know what? I'm not angry with you about that. We signed up for that, I suppose. I'm angry with myself, for allowing us to be taken in by you, for ever listening to you in the first place."_

"_Booth, you're so wrong about me and my motivations. I've come to see you and Dr. Brennan as more than just patients or research subjects- you're my friends. I care about you. I know that what I'm saying now seems like a complete reversal of what I said before, and maybe I have been less than honest with you, but Dr. Brennan...I had to protect her."_

"_Excuse me," Booth was shouting now, but he didn't care, "but are you saying that you have been lying to protect Bones- from me? Are you serious, Sweets?"_

"_Booth," the psychologist's tone was a calm contrast to Booth's own, "I know that must sound crazy to you, but the answer to your question is yes. You're not the only one who knows who Dr. Brennan is. In fact, there are some ways in which you don't see her at all."_

"_Don't," Booth's voice was menacing. "Do not go there, Sweets. Don't you dare try to say that you know Bones better than me."_

Sweets knew he was walking a very fine line with the agent, but this was his opportunity, and he was going to make sure that they had this conversation. He just hoped he wouldn't screw it up. "_She loves you, you know," his words stunned Booth momentarily and caused him to subconsciously take a step back. "She loves you, but seven months ago, she wasn't ready to accept it. Seven months ago, you were recovering from a major surgery...on your brain. Do you think Dr. Brennan didn't personally double check each and every scan of your brain taken after that surgery? Come on, Booth. You know her. Do you think she didn't see exactly the same things that I saw? You and I might both know that you can't quantify love in colors on a brain scan, but do you think she would have believed that? Now let's just say that seven months ago, you had announced to your partner that you were in love with her. What, exactly, do you think her reaction would have been? This is Dr. Brennan, we're talking about. At that time she refused to accept two very important concepts. One, that love was anything more than a series of chemical reactions occurring in the brain. Two, that love could ever last, that it could ever end in anything other than abandonment and destruction. So, you tell me, Booth, how do you think she would have reacted had you told her you were in love with her in September?"_

_Booth was seething. It took every ounce of self-restraint to keep him from pounding his fist into Sweets' face. "Well, Sweets, tell me. It's April now. What's made everything so drastically different from September?"_

"_That's exactly what I meant when I said that there are some ways in which you don't see Dr. Brennan at all. It's precisely why I finally decided to publish the book," Sweets' voice rose with his excitement level. It was so important that Booth really _get _this. "Haven't you noticed all the ways in which she's grown? It's actually quite remarkable. I'm not sure I've ever seen such a thorough change in anyone before. She's willing to accept your ideas about love, she's trying to learn to make jokes and use colloquialisms, she's putting her feelings for you above her need to have everything scientifically proven- don't you see? She's telling you in a hundred little ways that she loves you. She's trying to show you that she can fit in your world!"_

"_Just stop right there, okay Sweets. Bones has always fit in my world, always. She knows that. Don't ever say that I don't see her. You couldn't be more wrong." Booth was truly shaken, and he began to reflect upon why Sweets' book had worried him in the first place. "I know Bones, and I know that she doesn't love me. I have worked really hard to earn my place in her life and to have her accept her place in mine. Do you know how much damage your stupid book could do? I wouldn't be surprised if, by the time we get back to D.C., she has already turned in her resignation at the Jeffersonian and accepted a job digging up genocide victims somewhere on the other side of the world. Her professional reputation and neatly ordered universe mean everything to her. Your book has the power to really shake that up. It has the power to chase her away."_

"_Booth-," Sweets tried to break in and contradict him, but Booth was having none of it._

"_No, listen to me. You were right to stop me in September, okay? I almost ruined something really important. Bones and I are good now. I've met someone who is interested in building the same kind of life that I want, and Bones, well, Bones has Hacker. I guess. That part's not really important, the important thing is, Sweets, that you stop interfering. You and Angela, and, God, even Cam, Hodgins and the Squinterns- all of you need to stop before you chase her away. We're happy now, as we are. Just, please, let us be."_

"_Booth-," Sweets tried again to get a word in._

"_Goodnight, kid." Booth turned off the lights, letting him know that this conversation was finally, finally over._

* * *

He had thought that their little heart-to-heart the night before would make Sweets back off, at least for a little while, but it looked like that had been too much to hope for. They had managed to avoid each other during most of the journey back. Booth had the aisle seat, Sweets had the window and Caroline was in the middle. Booth had put on his headphones and left them on during the entire flight. When they had finally arrived, delayed for more than two hours by a storm in the Midwest, Booth turned on his phone and began dialing a familiar number. It was at that point that Sweets decided to break his silence.

"Who are you calling at this late hour, Agent Booth? Catherine?" Sweets' voice was taunting, and there was a bit of a smirk on his lips.

Booth shook his head and turned off his phone. He had been planning to call Bones and tell her about the awful diner at which he had eaten most of his meals in Idaho, but there was no way he was giving Sweets the satisfaction. As he had gotten rid of Catherine's phone number, he couldn't very well call the psychologist's bluff either. So, he settled for calling no one. "Nah, Sweets, I'm going to wait to call her until after I've had a good night's sleep. I wouldn't want to be off my game when we are reunited. Just checking messages."

"I wish the two of you would save your pissing contest for another time," Caroline spoke up from her place between the two of them. "It has been a long day, and I want to get off this plane and to some decent food as quickly as possible."

Which is the beginning of how Booth came to be in his current position- squeezed in the back of Caroline's rickety car, between not one, but two psychologists. Well, technically one psychologist and a chef, but still, Booth knew the score. He just wanted to be home, alone, thinking up a new strategy for keeping his feelings for his partner under wraps. It would seem, though, that fate _(God?)_ had other plans.

**TBC**


	4. Theater of the Absurd

Chapter 4: Theater of the Absurd

It was irrational. There was absolutely no reason for her to be standing in front of his door at 11:30 PM on a Friday. If anything, she should be at home, in her own bed, catching up on some much needed sleep. He was probably with his girlfriend- that was the logical assumption. Rationally, she knew that were he to open the door, he wouldn't be alone, and she would be left to try to explain why she was showing up unannounced at another woman's boyfriend's home... at an hour way too late to be innocent. Unfortunately, she had left rationality behind twenty minutes ago; a truth that made her feel as though she were drowning. She just couldn't get rid of the (_metaphorical)_ knot in her stomach, couldn't stop the feeling that a (_metaphorical)_ fist was squeezing at her heart. Why hadn't he called? Why, when she called, did his phone go straight to voicemail? Girlfriend or no, Booth called, Booth picked up his phone. These were things she knew to be true, what she counted on, especially now when he was supposed to have been back in D.C. over four hours ago...especially when he and the kid psychologist had been called off on some hush-hush assignment and had been gone for two weeks without a word. She was a genius, she knew what "hush-hush" meant, it meant "dangerous." It meant that there was even less of a guarantee than usual that he would make it back in one piece. The fist around her heart squeezed tighter, and she knocked sharply on the door in front of her.

When, a few seconds later, said door was opened by her very alive, apparently dateless, partner, Brennan had to use every ounce of her willpower not to fling herself into his arms. She released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and took a moment to simply look at him. It was amazing and terrifying how just laying eyes on him put her at ease. All of her worry about his safety, her paranoia regarding the potential changes in their relationship, her exhaustion resulting from two weeks of ceaseless work, it all slipped away in his presence. She realized with a start that somehow over the last five years, Seeley Booth had become her home- the only place where she felt completely at ease. A small voice in the back of her head tried reminding her that dependence on another person could never end well, especially when that other person didn't need you as much as you needed them. Brennan silenced that persistent little voice, closing her eyes and allowing herself (_just for this moment_) to enjoy the rare feeling of being truly at home.

She was shaken out of her revery by the concerned voice of the man at the door. "Bones! Hey, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

Brennan opened her mouth trying to quickly think up a plausible reason for showing up at his apartment at this hour, but her need to think on her feet was quickly eclipsed by her surprise at the scene in front of her. Through her partner's open door, she was able to see Sweets and Caroline Julian standing in a corner with glasses of wine, examining Booth's record collection. There were sounds of pans clattering in the kitchen, and the place smelled delicious. It looked very much as though she was interrupting a dinner party.

* * *

Booth wasn't really surprised when he heard the knock on his door. Sure, it was nearly midnight, and no one even knew that he was back from assignment, but, really, why would that mean that he shouldn't expect visitors? Apparently he was hosting a party, no big deal. Why shouldn't this night continue to become more like an episode of the _Twilight Zone _mixed with _Three's Company_? _God, Seeley, you're getting old, _he thought to himself. _It's really time to think up some more recent television references. Lost would work right? That's that show where all of that crazy shit keeps happening to people trapped on an island. _He definitely felt trapped, so he was going to go with _Lost._ He jerked open his door prepared to ask the people on the other side if they were members of the Dharma Initiative when he was greeted with the sight of the one person he had really wanted to see for the last two weeks.

He had missed her. He had missed her so damn much. He didn't care why she was here, or how she had known that he would be back, he just wanted to scoop her into his arms and bury his head in her shiny auburn hair. Lavender. Her hair always smelled like lavender. Suddenly he was nearly overcome with the need to make sure this hadn't changed in the last two weeks. Booth realized then that the time away from his partner had done nothing to diminish the strength of his troublesome feelings for her. He was also only too aware of the fact that Sweets was somewhere in the room behind him, probably all too pleased by this turn of events. Booth sighed, then took in Brennan's weary posture and closed eyes. Worried that something had happened to her while he was gone, all his musings about shampoo disappeared, and he asked what had brought her here tonight.

* * *

Brennan glanced between her partner and his living room, trying to quickly come up with a response that wouldn't sound as foolish as she felt. Seeing that Booth was fine and that he was having guests _(though, notably, Catherine didn't appear to be among them)_, made her feel silly. She had been desperate to see or hear from him- clearly he didn't feel the same way. It was another reminder that to him, they were 'just partners'. Her hatred for that phrase truly knew no bounds. Weariness overtook her once again, and she found herself too tired to try to come up with a pretense for her visit. Despite her recent claims to be dating Booth's boss, inventing impromptu little white lies had never been among her many strengths. Instead she blurted, "You didn't answer your phone," in a tone that was both accusing and embarrassed. "Obviously everything is fine, though...and it appears I'm interrupting, so I'm just going to...." She glanced back, motioning that she was planning to leave.

"No, Bones, wait, hey- I'm glad you're here." _You have no idea, _Booth added silently to himself. Right then and there he decided that no matter what solution he found for dealing with his feelings for Bones, it couldn't be one that involved not seeing her. Seeing the hesitation on her face, he decided it was time to try and lighten the mood. One day his 'send in the clowns' routine for dealing with the tension between them was going to get old, but right now it was all he had. He flashed her a grin. "I was going to call you when I got in, but it was getting late, and I figured you were probably sleeping soundly, having finally succumbed to the boredom of two weeks spent without me. Two weeks spent studying the remains of really old Indians-"

"Native Americans," she cut him off, smiling back at him, grateful _(so grateful)_ for the return of their familiar teasing, "and they're not boring, Booth. We actually identified some really fascinating anomalies-"

"Yeah, yeah Bones. You're right, nothing could be more interesting. You'll have to tell me all about it one night when I'm suffering from insomnia. Now that I know you're not getting your beauty rest, how about you come in and join us for dinner?"

"Booth, it's way too late for dinner. Eating this late interrupts your body's metabolic rhythms, and at your age-"

"WHOA! Whoa, Bones, let's stop right there. My age has nothing to do with anything, I am in my prime, at the top of my game-"

"Wait. You told me why you didn't call, but you didn't say why you didn't answer when I called."

"Huh?" Booth was thrown by the sudden change in direction. God, talking to her could be like having whiplash sometimes...pleasant whiplash, though. Jerking himself out of this potentially dangerous line of thought, he tried to focus on his partner's words. "Oh, sorry Bones. Our flight was delayed, and I guess I just forgot to turn my phone on." He watched her eyes narrow in suspicion, and he hoped she didn't plan to pursue this line of questioning. _Time to turn the tables, Seeley._ "Tell me, Bones, how did you even know to call me today? No one was supposed to know exactly when we would return. Dr. Brennan did you stalk a federal agent on a top secret government mission?"

Booth thought he saw Brennan's face flush with embarrassment before her eyes flashed, and she looked up at him haughtily. "I absolutely did not _stalk_ you Booth. As you yourself mentioned, I was very busy in your absence. My skills, as you know, are in very great demand. I don't sit around twinkling my thumbs, waiting for you to drag me off to a murder scene..."

"It's twiddling your thumbs, Bones. You know what, it doesn't matter to me how you knew I was coming back tonight. We'll just chalk it up to our cosmic connection." This earned him the smirk he knew was coming, the one he found so adorable.

"Booth, there's no such thing as a cosmic connection. That is a ridiculous-"

"Oh, for the love of God, are you two going to stand out there all night? Booth, didn't your mama ever teach you that it's rude to leave your guests unattended?" Caroline interrupted Booth and Brennan's age-old argument with her hands on her hips. "Come on Morticia, are you staying or leaving?"

"Staying. She's staying. Come on in, Bones, join the party." Booth threw up his hands in bemusement at his current situation.

"Good, now get your ass in here and entertain me," Caroline said, leading the way back into the apartment.

"Dr. Brennan!," came a lilting British accent from the kitchen, "What a pleasure!"

"Gordon, Gordon is cooking for your party?" Brennan turned to Booth in confusion.

"Yeah, Bones it's been a weird night." Deciding now was the time to try out his newest tv reference, he continued, "It's kind of like that show _Lost_ where all those people are trapped on that island, but you find out in the flashbacks and flashforwards that they were all sort of always popping in and out of each other's lives with the oddest timing..." Booth trailed off, taking in his partner's completely befuddled expression, realizing his mistake. Bones was not the person you tried out new pop-culture references on. "What I meant to say is that Caroline wanted food, and she was driving, so Sweets and I were sort of at her mercy. Sweets suggested that we check out Gordon, Gordon's restaurant, but it turns out he was leaving for the night. Long story, short, it was decided that we would all come back here to eat."

"Why wouldn't you just say that? Why did you feel the need to preface it with talk about islands?"

"Nevermind, Bones."

"Dr. Brennan, what a surprise to see you here at Agent Booth's apartment at midnight on a Friday!" Sweets had held his tongue as long as he could. "Wow, are you here about work? I know how the two of you like keeping everything professional, so you must be here about a case, right?"

Brennan glanced at her partner, waves of tension rolling off of him. Suddenly, she had the feeling she never should have left her apartment that evening.

**TBC**


	5. The Underestimation of Dr Brennan

**A/N: As always, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, alerted, or added this story to your favorites. I can't say how much more fun it is to check my email now. We're just about at the halfway point for this story. I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 5: The Underestimation of Dr. Temperance Brennan

_Brennan and Booth stood shoulder to shoulder, facing their nemesis- in the person of one Lance Sweets, child psychologist. _Brennan had to bite the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from laughing out loud at her thoughts. She really was becoming quite amusing; either that, or lack of sleep was finally causing the onset of delirium. A quick glance at her partner, though, made all her light-hearted thoughts disappear.

She sighed, experiencing a sense of deja vu. Just as he had two weeks ago on the forensic platform, Booth was looking at Sweets as though he might honestly pull out his gun and shoot him- no changies, no take backs. Since when did Booth let Sweets get to him? Once again, Brennan was left to wonder exactly why he was so upset. People were always teasing them about getting together. Secretly, she enjoyed it, found it reassuring that other people believed they should be more than 'just partners'. Booth, too, had always taken it in stride...until lately. The best correlation she could come up with was that things were different now because of Catherine. Booth had a girlfriend, someone he really liked, and he didn't want implications of a more-than-professional relationship with his partner to complicate his budding romantic relationship.

Brennan's conclusion left her with a dizzying sense of loss and panic. She visualized enormous iron gates slamming down around her, protecting her, making her untouchable. It was a technique she had developed after her brother left, and she found it quite useful whenever emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Safe behind those gates, Brennan could regain her objectivity. Catherine made Booth happy. Brennan wanted Booth to be happy _(she wanted it more than anything, more than she wanted her own happiness)._ Booth seemed to deem Sweets and his teasing a threat to his happiness. Therefore, Brennan reasoned, in order to meet her objective _(Booth's happiness)_ she needed to stop Sweets' teasing. No problem. Giving Sweets her best 'I'm a genius, and you're nothing but a little boy wasting his time on a soft science' glare, Brennan told another lie.

"Actually, Dr. Sweets, I am here about work. Booth has been absent for two weeks. While I'm sure whatever it is you were doing was very important, your absence did not lead to a halt in our work here. I came to update Booth about a case- one for which he will need to be prepared first thing Monday morning." Thinking that a bit of distraction might also help her cause, she asked, "By the way, what were all of you working on?"

"Uh, uh. No _cherie_, that's classified," Caroline piped up from her spot in the corner, still combing through Booth's records.

Before Brennan could argue that her security clearance was actually higher than Booth's and certainly higher than Sweets', said psychologist jumped right in, letting her know her attempts at distraction were wasted on him.

"That's interesting Dr. Brennan, but how did you even know Booth would be back tonight?" His words were directed at the anthropologist, but his eyes were set on the agent. His tone was challenging.

Brennan glanced between the two men, getting the feeling that they were playing a game that involved her, but didn't fully include her. She didn't know the rules, but she knew she wanted Booth to win. Trying not to think about how easy this was becoming, she lied again. "I didn't know Booth would be home tonight. I worked late helping to prepare for the Jeffersonian's newest exhibit on the Powhatan Confederacy. As I was driving home from the lab, a route which takes me right by this apartment, I saw the light on in Booth's window. Knowing that he doesn't like to waste electricity, I induced that he was likely home and that it would be more efficient for me to stop by and brief him on this case now than it would be for me to waste valuable work time on Monday morning going over the information. Do you have any further questions, Sweets?"

Sweets rolled his eyes and mumbled what sounded like, "Come on, I'm the good guy here, Dr. Brennan," before turning around to join Caroline at the record collection. Booth, on the other hand, was beaming at her with pride. Once again, she lost herself in that smile, in the feeling that they were a team. She pushed back the nagging voice taunting that she had won that battle at the expense of losing the war.

* * *

Booth found himself barely able to resist shouting "In your face!" at the retreating form of Lance Sweets. Instead, he leaned down and whispered in Bones' ear, "Do you really need to update me on a case right now?"

She smiled back at him conspiratorially and whispered, "No." Then, she looked at him with that adorable little girl expression, the one that reminded him of Parker whenever he thought he had done something good and was looking for affirmation. God, he loved that expression.

"That's my girl," he whispered with a wink, and the partners exchanged a soft high five.

"Alright, Seeley, I've found my record, now point me in the direction of your turntable." Caroline was holding up an album featuring a young man with an Afro propped up on his side, smiling dreamily. Sweets stood beside her, smirking.

_Of course. Out of all the albums I've collected over the years, that would be the one Caroline would select. Just what Sweets needs- more ammunition._ Booth shook his head bitterly.

"Lionel Richie?" Brennan asked in surprise. "Booth, you have a Lionel Richie album?

"And just what, may I ask," Caroline broke in, "is wrong with enjoying the dulcet tones of Mr. Richie?"

"Yeah, Bones," Booth moved to stand beside Caroline, crossing his arms over his chest, "What's wrong with Lionel? _Stuck on You_ is one of the most romantic songs of all time. Oh, and everyone loves that video where he's blind and he's molding that girl's face out of clay."

"Okay, Booth, I no longer have any idea what you're talking about. Nothing is wrong with Lionel Richie, I just thought you were more of a classic rock person than adult contemporary."

"Well, Bones, I'm a constant surprise. Besides, aren't you the one always saying that anthropologically, it is necessary to have a diversity of skills and interests in order to evolve and survive?"

"Alright, renaissance man, help me get this started," Caroline reminded him that he still hadn't shown her to the record player.

Within seconds, the sounds of early-eighties Lionel Richie were filling the air. Caroline was singing along, and Sweets was shaking his head in laughter. Booth, standing beside his partner, was beginning to think this wasn't such a bad night, after all. Just then, Gordon, Gordon poked his head out of the kitchen to let them know that dinner would be ready in two minutes. Booth offered to help, but was refused, the psychologist-turned-chef letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that he only allowed professionals in his kitchen.

Booth turned to Brennan in amusement, "Did Gordon, Gordon just refuse me entry to my own kitchen?"

"Well, Booth, he is here preparing a free dinner for you and your friends. Perhaps you should to defer to him on this matter."

It was decided that she was _as always_ right, then she excused herself to wash her hands. Booth watched her go, unable to look away, causing him to miss Sweets' approach. As soon as he became aware of the psychologist's presence beside him, he felt tension coiling its way through his body once again. "What do you want Sweets?" He turned to the kid with gritted teeth.

"So let's say you're not in love with Dr. Brennan, and she's not in love with you."

"Yeah, let say that... or better yet, let's not say anything." Booth started to walk away.

"Wait, Booth, come on, I'm willing to call a truce here."

Booth looked at Sweets suspiciously, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm not changing my opinion, nor am I refuting the conclusion of my book ," Booth's eyes narrowed as Sweets spoke, "I am, however, agreeing to stop mentioning it around you and Dr. Brennan. It can be like everything else between the two of you- unspoken. That should be satisfactory, I mean it's not as though the two of you aren't extremely adept at maneuvering around the giant elephants in the room, right?"

"Sweets, this is not sounding like a truce, and I know there are witnesses right now, including a federal prosecutor, but don't think that will stop me from hurting you."

"So I couldn't resist one last jab," Sweets replied to the angry agent, "but I'm serious about the truce. You and Dr. Brennan are important to me both personally and professionally, and contrary to what you seem to believe, I take no pleasure in torturing you. I really am sorry if my book has caused you any pain. I hope we can get past this."

The kid looked so hopeful, and once again, Booth was reminded of Parker. "I'm sure we'll be able to work something out Sweets, just as long as you butt out."

"Fine, fine. Just one last question, though. This relationship with Catherine, it has to be strained by the presence of Dr. Brennan, right?"

"Sweets...." Booth felt the small rush of affection he had experienced just moments ago begin to dissipate.

"No seriously, man. Even if there are no romantic feelings between the two you, you can't deny that you and Dr. Brennan are extremely close. That has to be intimidating to any romantic partner. How do you deal with the inevitable jealousy?"

Wanting to shut this conversation down permanently, Booth retorted, "Easy. I'll just tell her about the time Bones thought I was dead and how she didn't even shed a tear at my funeral. That should pretty much put to rest any lingering fears about possible romantic feelings between us."

Booth smiled in triumph and walked away. Sweets conceded defeat with a shrug. Neither man noticed the heartbroken anthropologist standing on the other side of the doorway, listening to every word.

**TBC**

**A/N: Seriously, who doesn't love Lionel Richie?**


	6. On the Importance of Tears

**A/N: As always, your reviews and alerts are greatly appreciated. A special thanks goes to nogigglingmajor for pointing out a careless error in the last chapter. Hopefully, the heads-up allowed me to fix it before too many of you read it. Maybe I should get a beta? I'm just worried that would delay even further my already limited updating schedule. Something to think about.... Anyway, I hope you continue to enjoy the story!**

Chapter 6: On the Importance of Tears

"_Easy. I'll just tell her about the time Bones thought I was dead, and how she didn't even shed a tear at my funeral. That should pretty much put to rest any lingering fears about possible romantic feelings between us."_

Brennan flattened herself against the wall in the hallway, trying to make herself invisible to the inhabitants of the living room. She was unprepared for what she had overheard, and the impact of those words was devastating. Suddenly, she was back there, in that hospital waiting room, her entire world collapsing in around her.

* * *

_Brennan didn't remember the ride to the hospital, she didn't remember racing to the emergency room, or talking to the charge nurse, demanding to know what had happened to her partner. It bothered her that she didn't remember. It had all happened moments ago, but it felt like so much more time had passed. Brennan needed to remember the details, needed to focus on something while she waited for the doctor to come out and tell her that Booth was fine. It was the only acceptable conclusion to this night, and she just needed to focus her mind on small, manageable details until it happened. _

_She got up from her chair and began pacing the room, the clicking of her shoes on the tile provided rhythm and focus. Click, she was walking in to the Checkerbox; Click, Booth was smiling; Click, she was singing and dancing; Click, someone was yelling; Click, Booth was standing (why?); Click, bang-_

_No. No. Brennan tried to shake off her memories. She sank down on a small couch beside her. Those details weren't helpful. She needed to focus on the wound. It had been near his shoulder. Brennan lost herself in thoughts of human anatomy, noting the locations of all the major arteries, trying to project the trajectory of Pam Nunan's bullet, doing her best to come up with the statistical odds of Booth sustaining various types of injuries. Math and science, these were helpful._

_Somewhere in the back of her mind, Brennan was aware of the sobs coming from her best friend as Hodgins tried to comfort her. Sweets looked more shaken than she had ever seen him, and Cam had taken her place pacing around the room, while Zach looked up at the ceiling, concentrating. 'He's probably trying to find comfort in math as well- maybe we could compare probabilities,' Brennan thought._

_She was vaguely aware of the waiting room filling with FBI personnel. They were flashing badges, issuing orders. She considered joining them, demanding to know what was happening, but she found that she couldn't move from her spot on the couch. She wasn't finished determining which arteries that bullet might have nicked. She lost herself in her thoughts once again until she was jolted into reality by an FBI administrator gently tapping her shoulder. She looked around and saw the worried tension evident on her friends' faces._

"_Dr. Brennan, I'm so sorry. Agent Booth didn't make it. The doctors did all they could, but they couldn't control the bleeding...." _

_In the distance, Angela was screaming. Hodgins was crying quiet tears, and Cam was shaking. She looked around, but she couldn't find Sweets. Zach looked stunned, as though he couldn't believe his calculations had been incorrect. People were moving toward her, trying to touch her, trying to talk to her. Suddenly, the most important thing in the world was that no one touch her. She turned and walked calmly out the automatic doors, ignoring the voices behind her._

_Somehow she was back in her apartment. She must have walked, but, again, she didn't remember. Once inside, she found that she didn't know what to do with herself. Immediately, she was hit with reminders of Booth- there in the basket by her couch were the copies of Sports Illustrated she had bought when she got tired of hearing him complain about how the only magazines she had were anthropology journals. There, in the kitchen, was her refrigerator. If you opened it, you would find half and half, even though Brennan only used 2% milk. It was there for him, because he insisted that coffee required half and half. In her laundry hamper was a pair of brightly striped socks, because he had come to pick her up for work that morning and had stepped in a puddle on the sidewalk in front of her building. His socks had been soaked. _

_Brennan tried to fight back panic as she walked through the hall toward her bedroom, desperate to find a place that didn't remind her of him. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the hall mirror. Blood, his blood, was on her face and streaked through her hair. It had been on her hands, and she hadn't thought to wash them. He was everywhere. He was all over her. There would be no escape. The strength of the tears that came (a little late) forced her to double over. She stayed there, in her hallway, all night; tears washing his blood from her hands._

* * *

She remembered that she hadn't cried after that. She had no right to cry. He had taken a bullet meant for her; he was dead because of her. Adorable, six-year-old Parker was fatherless because of her. Tears were a release she did not deserve. The funeral had been a blur. She had spent the entire thing _(well, up to the point that she had realized that there was a dummy in Booth's casket)_ envisioning her beloved gates slamming down around her, over and over. When she had seen Booth, she had wanted to hug him with everything in her. She had wanted to shout and cry and thank God _(that's right, God) _for bringing him back.

Those feelings lasted for about a second, and they were followed by rage. He was there in front of her and instead of wanting to hug him, she wanted to hit him. It was the exact same pattern she had experienced with Russ after her parents left. She had worried about him, thought she had lost him. Then, he arrived, and she was grateful and relieved. Somehow, though, her relief was always lost in an expression of anger.

Still, Brennan had thought that she and Booth were past that. She thought he saw her, that he understood how affected she had been by his 'death'. She had been trying so hard to let him know that she had taken all he had to say to heart- that she had taken _him_ to heart. She told him she believed in love and that she understood faith. She put his need to believe in his government over her need to find the truth when she had been forced to examine the remains brought to her by the Secret Service. She thought back to what she had told Gordon, Gordon- _"There isn't anything I wouldn't do to help him."_

...Except cry at his funeral. She shook her head bitterly, trying to stave off panic and tears _(no way are you going to cry now)_. All of that other stuff, it didn't matter. She was never going to be what Booth wanted. For all her efforts, she was always going to fall short. Booth wanted someone who was easier to be around, someone who reacted appropriately in a given situation. Someone who cried at funerals.

She had known that, of course she had. Brennan did not allow herself to entertain the thought that he might feel for her what she felt for him. Still, Booth's triumphant words to Sweets seemed like particularly cruel confirmation. Now here she was, trapped in his apartment, unable to leave without arising suspicion and pity.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan opened the eyes she hadn't realized she had closed and found herself looking into the smiling face of Gordon, Gordon.

"I was wondering if you might join me in the kitchen as I put the finishing touches on our dinner?"

Grateful for something to do and for the gift of a few more minutes before she had to return to the living room, she nodded and followed.

* * *

The kitchen smelled amazing and, despite all of the clattering she had heard when she first arrived, it was surprisingly clean and uncluttered. On the counter sat two large pies. Brennan looked around, but other than the salad Gordon, Gordon was tossing, she didn't see anything else that might serve as an entree.

"Dr. Wyatt?"

"That would be Chef Wyatt, my dear."

"Well, I was just wondering...did you make pie for dinner?"

At her question, Gordon, Gordon burst into laughter. "You know Dr. Brennan, you are among my favorite people in the entire world." Brennan smiled at the compliment, even though she suspected it might have held a note of condescension, while the chef continued, "I did make pies, actually. These are potpies. I know it's not very sophisticated, but I was limited to ingredients found either in Booth's pantry or the 24-hour market. It was quite the fun little challenge. Now, Dr. Brennan, I recall that you are not too fond of pie yourself, but I hope that only extends to dessert pie."

"Only fruit pie, actually. Though it's been a while since I've eaten potpie. I think, maybe, my mother used to make it."

"Well, you will be pleased to note that while this one," he pointed to the pie closest to him, "is a chicken potpie, the other is vegetarian- just for you."

"Just for me?" Brennan was confused. "I wasn't even supposed to be here tonight. How would you know to make something special just for me? Not that I'm not appreciative," she added quickly, not wanting Gordon, Gordon to mistake her surprise for lack of gratitude at his thoughtfulness. She had been trying to make an effort to observe social niceties lately.

Gordon, Gordon gave her a mysterious smile, and said, "When it comes to you and Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, I have found it safest to assume that where one goes, there too will be the other."

Before Brennan could respond, he added, "I have always believed pie to be among the most profound of foods."

Brennan wondered if the career change had affected Gordon, Gordon's mental stability. "Now you sound like Booth. Food is not profound-"

"Oh, my dear, that is where you are wrong. When you came into this room, you were confused. You saw two pies on the counter, and nothing else that looked like a main course. You assumed that between those pie shells was something sweet. You assumed that I was feeding everyone dessert for dinner."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"The amazing thing about pie is, sometimes it's dessert. However, it might also be savory- it could be dinner. Pie, like so many things in life, is not always as it seems."

"Gordon, Gordon," Brennan was feeling tired, sad and frustrated, "I recognize that you are attempting to convey a larger message to me in the form of a metaphor about pie, but I have no idea what that message is. Why can't you just tell me directly what you would like to say? That way we could eliminate confusion and misunderstanding."

"Exactly, Dr. Brennan. That is exactly it. Being direct is the best way to eliminate misunderstanding. Of course, first, you have to concede that misunderstanding is possible. Now, would you be so kind as to help me carry our dinner out to the table. I suspect the other guests are getting restless."

Brennan stood, pie in hand, staring after the chef. Talking to him was like talking to the Sphinx. Deciding she had put off facing Booth for as long as possible, she walked numbly into the living room, trying to calculate exactly how soon she could escape without drawing undue notice. _"Half an hour. I can leave in half an hour. I can pretend to be fine. I can do anything for thirty minutes."_

**TBC**


	7. The Lost Art of Compartmentalization

**A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews and alerts! Y'all are the best. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I blew off Qualitative Research Methods for this one (quite the sacrifice, I know).**

Chapter 7: The Lost Art of Compartmentalization

Brennan pushed Gordon, Gordon's ridiculous pie metaphor out of her mind, deciding her exhaustion had depleted her of the reserves necessary to both puzzle together his meaning and also make it through this dinner without revealing her distress. _I truly hate psychology. _She had barely made it out the doorway from the kitchen when she heard the last voice she wanted to hear. _It's impossible, right, that just the sound of a human voice could be capable of causing physical pain?_

"Bones! There you are! I was about to put together a search and rescue mission to the bathroom. Hey Gordon, Gordon- I thought only professionals were allowed in your kitchen?" Booth's voice was jovial. He had relaxed considerably after managing to finally shut Sweets up.

"Ah, but I make the occasional exception for lovely scientists," Gordon, Gordon explained as he placed the salad and potpie in the middle of Booth's table. "I have always found Dr. Brennan to be among the most pleasant of conversation partners."

"Is that so, Doc?" Caroline piped up from behind Booth. "I'm not sure how I feel about the man who prepared my food basically admitting that he likes to hear about the best method for removing flesh from human bodies while putting together a meal..."

* * *

Brennan was aware of the bantering around her, but it was as though she were underwater, listening to people on the surface. Compartmentalization was her specialty. She should be able to do a better job at getting her hurt feelings under control. Again, she cursed the fact that she hadn't slept well for the last two weeks and that she had come here tonight in the first place.

_I'm pathetic_. The thought was enough to stop her in her tracks. If there was one thing Temperance Brennan could not tolerate, it was the image of herself as a figure to be pitied, as someone who was weak. She squared her shoulders, as if bracing herself against an inevitable blow, and placed her potpie next to Gordon, Gordon's. She could and would make it through this silly dinner. She would be fine. So, she didn't cry at Booth's 'funeral'? So, Booth planned to use that to prove to his new girlfriend that there was nothing going on between him and his partner? So what? It changed nothing. Everything was exactly the same as it had been. Temperance Brennan did not cry at funerals, and Seeley Booth did not cross lines. Status quo.

* * *

Booth had already taken a seat at the table across from Caroline. If things were truly as they had always been, Brennan would have taken the seat next to him _(best for stealing food off of his plate)._ Instead, Brennan took the seat next to Caroline, farthest from from her _(just) _partner. Had she been able to look at him, she would have seen the hurt and confusion that danced briefly across his features. Had she been able to look at him, she would have seen his head tilt questioningly toward her, asking her in that silent language all their own if everything was alright. Had she been able to look at him, he would have known in an instant that something had hurt her, and he would have stopped at nothing until he had figured out what _(who?)_ it was and fixed it. Had she been able to look at him, maybe he would have been able to help her piece together Gordon, Gordon's pie metaphor- maybe they would have both been able to concede that misunderstanding was possible. Maybe.

As it was, not looking at him was an important part of Brennan's emergency compartmentalization strategy. She regressed back to a time before she had developed object permanence: _If I can't see him, he's not there. If he's not there, he can't hurt me._ It was neither the most mature, nor the most sane strategy she had ever implemented, yet it was the best she could do under her current circumstances.

Around her, dishes were being passed, food was being served. Caroline was effusively thanking the Lord for the gift of decent food, and Sweets was again questioning Gordon, Gordon's decision to trade in his shrink hat for a chef's hat. Even Booth was laughing at Sweets' teasing of the chef, all apparently forgiven.

"Bones," Booth attempted to draw his partner into the conversation, "you want to make a toast? Show everyone how proficient you've become?" He leaned over to Gordon, Gordon with a wink and stage whispered, "I taught her everything she knows."

"No time for toasts, _cherie. _I feel like I've been waiting for this meal for a hundred years. Morticia can practice her public speaking next time." Caroline had filled her plate and was already digging in. Booth chuckled and began riding the prosecutor about her lack of patience. Gordon, Gordon began extolling the virtues of patience, while Sweets jumped in with a soliloquy on the tragedy of waiting too long. Soon, the men were lost in a sea of back-and-forth, while Caroline ignored them and focused on her food.

* * *

Brennan, too, was fixated on the food in front of her. It smelled amazing, and she thought it had been terribly kind of Gordon, Gordon to think of her and prepare a vegetarian entree. She couldn't eat it, though. The food was on her fork, but she couldn't bring herself to put it in her mouth. Her throat felt thick, and she knew that she would choke if she tried to take a bite.

Suddenly it hit her that she was going to cry. Right here, at a table full of smug psychologists, disdainful prosecutors and indifferent partners, she was going to cry. Unbelievable. Unacceptable. Quickly, she shoved the food on her fork into her mouth. She focused on chewing, even though she couldn't taste. Anything to distract her mutinous brain. She blinked hard, trying to fight off the inevitable. She would not cry, she would not. She struggled to keep her breathing steady. She tried reciting every bone in the human body, she tried imaging her gates slamming down, she tried to evaluate her escape options...nothing. Nothing was working.

She lost the battle with her thoughts and was flooded with memories of images, emotions and sounds. _An explosion in her kitchen, a ride in an ambulance. X-rays of Booth's feet, understanding the outlandish socks. Desperation strong enough to force her to turn to her father in defiance of the FBI. A club, a gunshot, a hospital, a funeral. Blood, everywhere. A betrayal, a hug. A statement in court. A phone call when she should have been going to a party. Booth, on a ship, not moving fast enough. A helicopter, a ghost, a hockey game. Realizing that she hadn't been paying attention, that something was wrong and she had missed it. A hospital, again. The sound of a drill, cutting into her partners skull. A coma, waiting. More x-rays, this time of the brain, saying she was an obstacle to his recovery. The wrong foot on the stairs, a missed mark. A book, a date. A mysterious trip, with no phone call. A dinner party. A conversation with a psychologist saying she was an obstacle to his happiness._

It was too much. It was finally, finally too much. The tears started to fall, quietly at first, silently landing on the food made especially for her. She had caught up to her own reality, and it was more than she could bear. She had professed her desire to be alone, her belief that monogamy was unnatural. She had been waiting to be proven wrong. She had denied the existence of fate or miracles. She had been waiting on a sign.

The tears became sobs. She kept her head down, biting her lips, attempting to remain silent. Her body shook with tears and her efforts to avoid sound. She had expressed the importance of remaining professional at all times and under all circumstances. She had been waiting for an opportunity to let go. She had abided by his line. She had been waiting for him to decide she was worth the risk. She had not believed she was worth the risk. She had been hoping he would convince her otherwise.

All of her illusions fell, and she had nowhere left to hide. The truth was there, and it would be revealed. In its revelation, she would lose everything. Silent sobs continued to wrack her body. She could still hear laughing voices around her. Someone's eyes were on her. Suddenly, someone's arms were gathering her.

"I know...I know, baby girl..it's okay."

Brennan stiffened for a moment, then gave in to the arms pulling her tight to a soft body, rubbing her back and whispering words of comfort. In the background, the voices stopped. Brennan could feel more eyes on her. She didn't care. She was being comforted, and there was nothing awkward about it. There was no tense moment where she had to consider how this might be perceived. There was no underlying sexual tension. It was as though she was a little girl again, safe in the arms of her mother. Brennan stopped biting her lips and began to sob in earnest.

"Oh, honey...oh, I know...I know," Caroline Julian's whispered to her in a soft, Southern-accented voice. She shooed away the very shaken men who tried to intervene. "I know, baby girl...it's too much, I know."

Brennan pulled back a little, shaking and looking into the prosecutor's face. "I...I...I don't cry...now...here...all of them...."

"Oh, baby, don't you worry about them. They don't know a thing...they don't know...shhh...it's going to be okay."

Brennan's sobs became soft gasps in Caroline's arms. They faded away, and she was left completely drained. She knew she she should pull away, but she didn't want to face the moment. She wasn't ready. She wanted to hang on to this feeling of being cared for just a little longer. Besides, what would she do? What would she say? How could she explain herself?

As if able to read her mind, Caroline sprung into action. She gave Brennan one last tight squeeze, then pulled away, keeping an arm around her shoulder. "Boys, Dr. Brennan here is quite tired." She glanced at Brennan. "_Cherie, _I'm going to have a word with that boss of yours about monitoring your working hours. Maybe the Jeffersonian could use a refresher in federal labor laws." She turned back to the men. "Anyway, she's going to head home. Sweets, go wrap up that vegetarian potpie for her. God knows, no one else is going to eat it."

Sweets, stunned, did as he was told.

Booth, on the other hand, was not easily subdued. "Bones, what's going on? What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you sick?"

"Seeley Booth, you need to mind your business. Ah, there's your food," Caroline took the pie from Sweets and handed it to Brennan. "Now, honey, you take this with you, and you can have it for lunch tomorrow, after you wake up."

"Wait, Bones, I'll drive you home."

"I have my car," the scientist finally spoke up. She tried to lift her chin defiantly. "I am perfectly capable of driving myself."

"Yes, you are," Caroline affirmed, with a warning glance at the FBI agent. "You are perfectly capable of driving yourself."

Brennan didn't know what had inspired Caroline's loyalty, but she had never been more grateful for the woman's presence. She gave her a grateful nod, then walked out of the apartment, leaving its occupants in various stages of shock, worry and anger.

**TBC**


	8. The Te of Caroline

**A/N: So, this story now has over 100 reviews- wow! Thanks guys! Feedback in all its forms is appreciated. By the way, some of you have mentioned how much you like Caroline- I hope you meant it, because you're about to get a whole bunch of her....**

Chapter 8: The Te of Caroline

For a moment after the door closed behind Brennan, the room was silent, its occupants too shocked to move or speak. Within seconds, though, Booth was on his feet, grabbing his keys, headed toward the door. He didn't know what had just happened, but he was damn sure going to find out. The image of his partner, the woman he loved, crying _(sobbing)_ was burned into his mind. _Bones doesn't cry, not like that, not in front of everyone... not in front of Sweets_. Booth began replaying everything that had happened that evening since she arrived, searching for a possible catalyst. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Caroline Julian stepping in front of the door, blocking his exit. _Just what the hell is going on with Bones and Caroline?_ Booth did not enjoy feeling as though he were an outsider in matters concerning his partner.

"Caroline," he growled, "get out of my way. I'm going after her. I mean it."

"Oh, _Cherie, _I know you mean it," Caroline faced him challengingly, hands on her hips, "and you better believe you're going after her...but not until you, and I mean _all_ of you," she looked around the room, "have listened to what I have to say. Understood?" Her tone left no room for disagreement.

Sweets, looking shell-shocked, stared at the prosecutor in awe. "Dude, you called her 'baby girl'. You called her 'baby girl', and she let you live."

"Oh for cryin' out loud, this is what I'm talking about," Caroline threw up her hands in exasperation. "It is time for this silliness to stop. That's right, I called her 'baby girl', and she let me. You know why? What kind of psychologist are you, anyway? She let me, because that woman hasn't had the opportunity to be anyone's baby girl in over fifteen years. It doesn't matter how smart someone is, or how many degrees they have, or how many martial arts they know, sometimes you just need a mama. Sometimes, you just need someone to look at you, recognize how hard it's all been and tell you that it's going to be okay. Who does she have? I mean, really, who does she have? Her father? The man who abandoned her as a result of his criminal past? Left her at the mercy of strangers in the foster care system to have all sorts of horrible things done to her? Don't look at me like that, Seeley Booth, do you think I haven't read the files? I know Max Brennan loves his daughter the best he can, but let's just be honest- even his best is manipulative, not to mention too late. So, who else does she have? A psychologist who treats her like a human guinea pig? A partner so caught up in a misguided hero complex that he refuses to see what's right in front of his face?"

"Caroline," Booth's voice was deadly calm, the anger he had been struggling to keep at bay, rising to the surface, "you have no idea...."

"Don't tell me I have no idea," Caroline replied in a voice that let Booth know she couldn't be intimidated. "No, Seeley, I have been watching this for the last five years. While I must admit that it was entertaining at first- like watching a live version of _When Harry Met Sally_- I am no longer amused. It is time for this to end. Now, unlike some folks," she glanced toward Sweets and Gordon, Gordon, "I don't like to insert myself into the personal business of others. However, I have never been witness to a more pathetic case than this. It is obvious that if left to your own devices, you and Dr. Brennan would likely kill each other in the name of protecting one another. You've had plenty of time to get it together on your own, and now it's time for some intervention."

"Ms. Julian," Gordon, Gordon spoke up for the first time since Brennan's abrupt exit, "if I might interject-"

"No you may not." Caroline came to stand in front of the chef, giving him a light slap on the shoulder. "That, is for being so damn smug all the time. Talking in riddles, like you're some kind of ancient mystic, or magic eight ball. What the hell is wrong with saying you mean to say- especially to people as hard-headed as Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan? You had the power to end this a long time ago, but you just sat back with a Mona Lisa smile on your face, watching them dance," she gave him another slap, leaving him looking chastised.

"And you," she continued, walking over to Sweets. "What the hell is wrong with you? Playing around with people the way you have, you should be ashamed of yourself. Goading him-," she pointed to Booth, "you know he can't handle that!"

"Hey-," Booth was growing more and more upset.

"Just calm down, Seeley, I'm getting to you. I'm not finished with Doogie here, yet. I swear to God, boy, how is possible for someone to run their mouth as much as you do, yet never manage to say the right thing in the right way? Seriously, shouldn't the law of probability come in to play here? Shouldn't you have been able to manage it once, at least by accident? I swear if that Rain Man kid weren't in the looney bin, I'd have him run the numbers. Unbelievable." She shook her head and walked away, leaving Sweets staring at the floor and feeling two feet tall.

Finally, she crossed over to Booth. He met her glare with an icy one of his own. "I don't have time for this Caroline. Something is wrong with Bones, and I need to find out what it is." He wasn't in the mood for games.

"Oh something is wrong with Dr. Brennan alright, and that something is you, Agent Booth." The anger on his face turned to hurt, and Caroline rolled her eyes. "Don't look at me with that hurt puppy dog face, because it will not work on me. I am immune to your charm and determined that you hear the truth." Caroline shook her head and tsk'd her tongue. "I am so disappointed in you, Seeley Booth. When did you become such a pansy? _Cocky_, my ass. If it wouldn't be highly inappropriate, I'd rip that belt buckle right off you. You used to be a man of action, a man of conviction. Now, you just sit around moping, pining for someone that you could have, if you would just pull your head out of the sand and put us _all _out of our misery."

She shook her head before continuing, "Getting into a battle of wills with a child," she pointed at Sweets, "that's not the Seeley Booth I used to know. The crazy thing is, this whole debacle could have been avoided if you had just called the girl when the plane landed. Instead, you decided you couldn't let the little psychologist get the best of you. Just like a silly little boy on the playground. So, instead, you left her to worry about you. You did this. So you can go after her and burst in her house, demanding to know who hurt her and how to fix it, but you best be prepared for the answer."

Caroline was in Booth's face, jabbing him in the stomach. "I'll repeat, you did this. You're always touting the superiority of your gut, of your ability to read people. Well, what the hell happened? She loves you. It's obvious. She has sat by your side in the hospital countless times. She held you while, to the best of her knowledge, you died in her arms. She missed her chance to sail around the world with someone who really liked her- and I'm sorry, but you have to know how rare that is- so that she could stay and help your sorry ass catch murderers. She lets your little rugrat have the run of her lab, and don't even try to tell me that doesn't mean something- have you seen the way she typically reacts to children? I have, and let me tell you, it isn't pretty. She watched them cut into your skull, because you begged her to be there. You didn't wake up for fourteen days, and guess who never left your side? I also happened to be there when they showed her brain scans that demonstrated that you were in love with a fictionalized version of her and told her that her constant presence at your bed side might actually be doing more harm than good." Booth's head snapped up at this; it was the first he had heard of it. "Her face looked like someone had stuck a knife through her gut; either that or destroyed one of her precious mummies. Now, the girl might be strange, and she might have a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time, but I have to admit, I can't help but root for her. I can't help but root for the two of you. What you need to understand before you go crashing through her door is that all of this melodrama, all of this perceived risk, all of these complications- it's all unnecessary. It's all in your head. You love her, and she loves you. It's as simple as that. It happens everyday. I don't know when the two of you got it into your heads that the world would stop spinning if you both got what you wanted for once, but you need to let it go. You're not that special. Sometimes, people simply get to be happy."

Booth found himself rooted in place, listening to the last thing he ever expected to hear, from the last person he ever expected to say it. Caroline shook her head and opened the door for him. "Now, go after her. Go be happy, if it's the last thing you do. God, with the luck you two have, you should know how important it is to fix this because it really _might_ be the last thing you do. _Now_ is your chance, Seeley. You miss too many chances and, before you know it, the show's over."

Booth's heart was pounding in his ears. He didn't know what he was going to say when he got there, but he knew Caroline was right. It was time for this to end. _You miss too many chances and, before you know it, the show's over._ Without glancing back at his house guests, he ran out the door.

"Whew," Caroline clapped her hands and sat back at the table, "so glad we took care of that." She glanced at the dumbstruck psychologists _(psychologist and chef, whatever)._ "Well, don't stand there gaping boys, just because I was able to handle in a few minutes what your psychology couldn't work out in four years. Now have a seat. It's nearly 1:00 AM, and I've been hungry for hours. I'm damn well going to finish this dinner."

**TBC**

**A/N: Bonus points to anyone who spots the REO Speedwagon lyric. :)**


	9. The What That Comes After

**A/N: Not to sound like a broken record, but thank you so much for all of the reviews and alerts! It warmed my heart to see so much Caroline love. Kudos to NatesMama and Sheytune for being the only reviewers to spot the REO Speedwagon lyrics. Some of you are to young to be familiar with the song, bless your hearts. I guess the rest of you just have better taste- you don't know what you're missing! By the way, there are only a couple of chapters left, and I'm determined to have them published before the hiatus ends. Thanks for sticking with me!**

Chapter 9: The What That Comes After

Temperance Brennan remembered why she never cried. It wasn't just that tears indicated an embarrassing lack of control, or that she found them largely unproductive. It was also that they caused horrific headaches. She knew the physiological explanation for the pain and exhaustion that inevitably follow an emotional breakdown- dehydration, muscle tension, pressure put on the eyes from the uncontrollable shaking. See- she was too smart for this. _She knew better than this._

She rubbed her temples as she closed the door to her apartment behind her and shuffled into the kitchen, searching for ibuprofen. She felt spent and achy, but strangely, not embarrassed. In the past when she cried _(which again, was almost never),_ the tears had always been followed by a nearly debilitating sense of shame _(not to mention a massive headache). _Though she had never managed to make quite the spectacle of herself she had made tonight, she still remembered all of her past crying fits with that cringing feeling that made her want to pinch herself in punishment. Tonight, however, she was so out of sorts, so outside the realm of what she considered normal, that she couldn't even bring herself to feel the appropriate amount humiliation. She was sure it would come, probably in the morning, but she was grateful for the reprieve.

_Oh God._ Speaking of reprieves, she wondered just how long Caroline would be able to hold Booth at bay. She replayed the worry in his voice the last time they spoke, and she had to admit that she was a little surprised _(let down?) _that he wasn't already here. His feelings for her might not be what hers were for him, but still, Booth could never resist trying to save a damsel in distress. She did her best never to play the part, but tonight she had let herself down. She knew her partner, and she knew he would have been determined to talk to her. Caroline could be pretty scary, though, and this time, she was on Brennan's side.

The thought made Brennan smile, despite her current state of mind. Caroline Julian was on her side. She shook her head. As far as she had known, Caroline viewed her as nothing more than a nuisance made tolerable only by her ability to see things on bones that no one else could. _Sometimes people surprise you;_ that's what Booth would say.

Her smile faded and she closed her eyes. She was exhausted. She had started this endless night exhausted, and things had only gotten worse. She should go to bed, but she didn't know how she would ever be able to sleep with this ache she felt in her chest. She supposed Booth would tell her that the ache was caused by her heart breaking _(impossible)._ Booth, who she had to put out of her mind. Booth, who mercifully, she realized, glancing at the clock, was not coming after her. It was a good thing too, as she obviously couldn't trust herself tonight. She might do something incredibly irrational, like beg him to love her back. She shuddered at the thought. _You sound like one of those girls who play with dolls that say things like, 'Math is hard!', or who read those books Angela is always going on about where the main character keeps begging her boyfriend to turn her into a vampire._ This had to stop. Temperance Brennan was not the kind of woman who begged to be turned into a vampire.

It was time, she decided, for her coping mechanism of last resort. Well, penultimate resort. Last resort, she supposed, was packing up and finding a flight to Indonesia before Monday, but Brennan wasn't prepared to run away. No, her work _meant_ something to her. She may have gone into anthropology to study ancient remains, but identifying victims and solving murders had become her purpose. She would not lose that, not when it might be all she had. Booth didn't know how she felt. He didn't know what made her cry. She could still pull herself together, salvage her partnership. He hadn't chased after her- she still had time to create a convincing story. She was becoming quite adept at lying. With a little rest, she was sure she would be able to think of something to appease him; she was, after all, a genius. Maybe she could even tell him that she was crying because she had broken up with Andrew! That would actually get her out of a lie, and a lie to end a lie was better than a regular lie...wasn't it? On second thought, as desperate as she was to get herself out of a heart-to-heart over her little breakdown, she would probably rather eat glass than let anyone think that she had lost it over Hacker. She had given up as much of her dignity as she was willing to let go. Well, she would think of something. Right now, she just needed to focus on making it through the night.

She walked over to her bookshelves and climbed on a chair to reach the top. There, hidden between first edition anthropology texts was an old spiral notebook. She pulled it down and walked back over to her couch, pen in hand. She covered herself with a throw blanket and ran her palm over the notebook's crinkled yellow cover. The book was old. She believed she had used it to take notes in World Civilization her sophomore year of high school. It had only served this purpose for a semester, though, before she had found that she could put it to better use.

* * *

Brennan _(Tempe, she had been Tempe then)_ learned quickly upon entering the foster system that those who could compartmentalize, survived. Those who held on to magical thinking, to the belief that there was some omnipotent God with a plan, living up in the stars, making sure that everything worked out okay? They crumbled. Here is a truth that everyone knows, but no one will say out loud: Bad things happen. Everyday. Things are lost and are never found. People might be able to handle this, if there were a reason for it. But here's the thing- there isn't. There is no reason, no plan, no god. If you allow yourself to wallow in grief, you get stuck, you never get out. You have to accept that bad things will happen, then you have to put it behind you and move on. That is how you survive this world.

Tempe had developed an extremely effective method to moving on, and the key to it all was her notebook. Being the logical girl that she was, even back then, she had decided that the best way to get over all that she had lost was to face it. She would make a list of everything she would never have as a result of what happened, everything that would change, everything she would miss. She would grieve. Then, when she was finished, she would hide the notebook high on a shelf, out of sight, out of reach. She would keep going.

* * *

The notebook held two pages devoted to her parents, one devoted to Russ, one for Booth's fake death and one for Zach. This situation wasn't the same as the others; finally seeing that someone would never love you _(even though she had known it, she had KNOWN it)_ is certainly not the same as a death, an abandonment or an incarceration. Still. It was a loss, and here in the privacy of her home, with her notebook full of lists, she could admit that it was significant. She briefly thought that she should just add on to the list from Booth's death, but quickly decided that the two were very different and should be separated. She took a deep breath, because she knew this would hurt; it always did. She reminded herself that after she was finished, she could put it away, as though it had never been there in the first place.

_A baby. _Tears filled her eyes. It was crazy, but she still wanted a baby. She wanted Booth's baby, one they made the old fashioned way. More than that, she wanted a family, like the one she had lost. One with two parents who loved each other, which brought her to the next item on her list...

_Marriage._ She cringed even as she wrote it. Some of that embarrassment she had thought she was being spared was beginning to creep back in. How could she have let her desires get so far away from her? Well, while she was at it...

_Making love._ Crappy sex, that's what she could have. It would be enough; it had always been enough. The tears in her eyes began to fall, but she didn't brush them away. It was part of the rules she had made up for her ritual- she could cry as much as she wanted until the notebook was closed.

_Love. _This one was easy. She would return to her previous stance on the issue...well, maybe that would be impossible. Still, she could concede its existence without ever allowing herself to feel it. She would not be falling in love again. She would never leave herself defenseless the way she had with Booth. She would never get close enough to anyone else to let them sneak through her gates.

_Pie. _Okay, this one was silly, but it had a place on the list. She had sort of had this secret deal with herself that if Booth ever kissed her, she would surprise him by finally taking him up on his offer to try apple pie. Stupid.

_Growing old with someone._ Somehow growing old with someone seemed different than being married, or being in love. She thought for a moment that this might still be possible; she could picture herself and Booth in a retirement home together, just as friends. Then it hit her that Booth wouldn't be making a list like this. He would find someone. He would get married. He would grow old with his wife.

_Playing Santa Claus. _She didn't really like the idea of Santa Claus. It had always seemed wrong that parents would lie to their children about a man who flew around the world, bringing presents to all the good kids...except for those that were poor, or Muslim, or Hindu. It just wasn't right...._but_ every year at Christmas, she fantasized about what it would be like for her and Booth to stay up all night on Christmas Eve, putting together presents for Parker. Seeing the little boy's face light up with excitement....

Now the tears started in earnest. What was it about Parker that got to her so much? She didn't even like children! Besides, he already had a mother, he didn't need her. The thought, though, of someone else getting to be his step-mother? _Heart-crushing. _

She sat crying, fixated on this item on her list, when she heard a knock. A knock she had been foolish to believe wouldn't come.

"Bones! I know you're awake- your light is on. I'm counting to ten, then I'm using my key! I mean it. One..."

Brennan rolled her eyes and shook her head, wiping her face and shoving her notebook between the cushions on the couch. Cursing his timing and the fact that she had ever given him a key to her door, she came to terms with the need to tell one last lie.

**TBC**

**A/N: So I know no one pays attention to the chapter titles, but since we talked about music last time, the title was inspired by the line "I don't want anything to do, with what comes after you" from the beautiful Bonnie Raitt song, _I Don't Want Anything to Change._ See, my musical knowledge extends beyond 80's power ballads.**


	10. The Truth, Finally

**A/N: I remain the most grateful person in the world for all of your reviews and alerts. Have I ever told you guys how emotionally draining my job is? Because it's true. I tell you this so that you can understand exactly how low my angst threshold is in my extracurricular life. I see plenty of tragedy and ambiguity in real life, so I like my entertainment with a happy ending, thank you very much. I just thought that might be helpful to know as you read this chapter...**

**Spoilers: There is a brief reference to a spoiler about a gift that Brennan receives later in season 5**

Chapter 10: The Truth, Finally

Booth didn't even want to think about the number of traffic laws he had violated while racing to his partner's home. He had never been so tempted to take advantage of his siren in his entire life. He knew it was a Friday, but God, what was up with all the 1:00 AM traffic? When he finally reached her building, he ran toward the stairs, forgoing his typical friendly small talk with the security guard. His heart was pounding, and his sense of urgency was as strong as if he were racing to catch a suspect. Caroline's dressing-down was running on an endless loop in his head.

It was almost too much for Booth to process. What could have upset Bones enough to lead to a breakdown over dinner? Why had no one informed him that the reason she had taken off for Guatemala after his brain surgery was because she had been told that she was delaying his recovery? Might she actually love him back? Had he been that foolish? Could it really be that simple?

Feeling both anxious and optimistic, he began pounding on the familiar door. His knock went unanswered, but he could see the light seeping from the gap below. _No way is she shutting me out tonight. _As much as he hated to force her hand, he knew he had an ace in the hole...he just happened to be the guardian of her spare key.

"Bones! I know you're awake- your light is on. I'm counting to ten, then I'm using my key! I mean it. One..."

As he expected, that got a reaction. He heard his partner's still shaky voice on the other side of the door. "Go away, Booth. I'm tired, and I don't feel like talking tonight."

The note of vulnerability in her words was almost too much for him. He almost gave her what she wanted and left. Under normal circumstances, he had a hard time denying her; hearing her now, sounding so broken and raw, made it damn near impossible. Of course, all he had to do was imagine returning to his apartment and facing the wrath of Caroline Julian, and he quickly decided that, of the two, he would rather deal with Bones.

"Sorry, Bones, but I can't leave. Something bad is obviously going on, and unless you open this door, I'm going to have to assume that you've got another creepy serial killer in there waiting to attack. I'm serious. I'll have to come in shooting."

She opened the door with her hands on her hips, not inviting him inside. "Booth, that's ridiculous. Under no circumstances is it acceptable to enter a room shooting...well, unless someone is shooting at you, which is obviously not the case. Furthermore, I know your threat is empty, because I know how much you despise the paperwork that accompanies discharging your weapon."

He grinned, taking in her no-nonsense tone and her I-could-kick-your-ass stance. _Same old Bones. _His smile faded, though, when he took in her face. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed in red. Her face was splotchy, and though she tried to hide it, her lip was trembling. Standing there with her hair pulled up and her pajamas on, she looked for all the world like a little girl with a broken heart.

His chest clenched at the sight. He wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay, because he loved her, and he would never let anyone hurt her ever again. He was pretty sure that if he tried it, Bones would knock him clear into next week. Sometimes she was like a skittish animal- you had to be careful how you approached her when she was upset. More than that, some of Booth's optimism was starting to fade. He had spent the car ride over strategizing how to avoid traffic and get here as quickly as possible. He was beginning to realize that he might have been better off taking the long way and spending his time planning what he would actually say when he got here.

_Should I just stick to trying to figure out what has her so upset? I mean, I let Caroline get me all excited about the love stuff, but what's really changed? Why would loving me make Bones cry at dinner? Besides, _he remembered with a sinking feeling,_ the one thing I do know is that she's currently dating my boss. I would say that's pretty convincing evidence that she has no romantic interest in me._

Suddenly Booth felt foolish and unsure...not to mention slightly heartbroken. Still, his partner stood in front of him, looking more devastated than he had ever seen her, and he pushed his feelings aside. He was here for her, and he wasn't leaving until he had fixed whatever had broken inside of her. Figuring that his best bet was his old stand-by _(send in the clowns), _he gave her a silly grin.

"I know how you feel about pie, Bones, but you could have just turned it down. It certainly wasn't Gordon, Gordon's best, but I don't know that it was anything to cry over."

Brennan experienced a rush of warmth at her partner's familiar teasing tone, and she was tempted _(so tempted)_ to allow it to lull her into a false sense of comfort. _It would be so easy to pretend that this whole night had never happened, to laugh with him, to allow myself to fall just a little bit more in love with him, to give in to the delusion that one day, I might be enough. _It would be so easy...but it would always end the same. Better that it end now.

"I don't want to talk to you Booth. It's after 1:00 AM. Leave."

Booth was taken aback by the hostility in his partner's tone. While he wasn't exactly expecting her to be a fountain of self-disclosure, he didn't really anticipate that she would seem so angry with him. They had been okay before dinner; it didn't make sense. He was just going to have to tease it out of her.

"Nope. I told you earlier...I can't leave...not until I know what made you act so, well, so un-Bones-like at dinner." She pursed her lips and glared at him, so he continued. "Fine, you don't want to tell me, then I'll just have to guess. Let me see...were you stuck with Daisy all week? Did she shatter another skull? No? Well, did Sweets somehow manage to corner you at dinner and mandate more therapy sessions? That would certainly make me cry. Still no, huh? Oh, I got it! You remembered that you're dating a guy whose idea of a nice gift is a magazine subscription!"

Her head snapped up, and she looked at him as if he had just slapped her. "Stop it. Don't do that Booth, just stop it. Leave Andrew alone." She shook her head. "It's not fair."

Booth knew he had gone to far, and he tried to back-pedal. _Way to be a jackass. You come over here to try to make her feel better, and instead behave like a jealous moron._ "Look, Bones, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean to make fun of your boyfriend-"

"Yes you did! You always do this. Always. You don't want me, but you do everything you can to make me feel badly about anyone who might!" Realizing a moment too late what she had said, Brennan closed her eyes and covered her mouth.

"Wait," it was Booth's turn to sound raw and shaky, "what? What did you just say? What was that about me not _wanting_ you?" He stared at her in shock.

Brennan opened her eyes and looked at her partner. That was it. She was all out of lies. "Booth...I can't...," she took a ragged breath and ran a hand over her face. _Better that it end now._ "Hacker's not my boyfriend. I haven't seen him in, God, I don't even know how long. He was that inconsequential to me. He was one interrupted dinner and a coffee date. That's all. I lied about him being my boyfriend. I hate lying, but I did it because you wanted me to...and because there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."

"Bones-" Booth felt his heart skip a beat. _Is she saying what I think she's saying?_

"No, Booth, you have to let me finish. You wanted me to talk, and I am, so now you have to listen. I can't live by your line. I've done it for three years, ignoring everything I've felt, behaving just as you wanted, but I can't do it anymore. I think you will agree that my behavior tonight supports this conclusion." She swallowed her pride as she continued. _Time to go all in._ "I love you, but not in a professional way. In a personal way, a very personal way. I...I thought we could be fine...I mean, I know...I know you don't feel the same way..."

"Bones-" Booth could not believe what he was hearing. Never in his craziest, coma-inspired fantasies could he have imagined this moment.

"No, Booth, I'm serious. If you say one more word, I am slamming this door in your face and barricading it with a chair behind me. You have to listen. As I was saying, I know that you view me as a colleague, and...I hope...as a friend."

The tentativeness in her tone almost brought him to his knees. _How could she have gotten me so wrong? How could we have gotten each other so wrong?_

"The thing is, I realized tonight when I heard you tell Sweets that you could reassure Catherine with the fact that I hadn't cried at your funeral..."

"Bones, no. Oh my God, you don't understand..." Finally it all made sense. He couldn't believe it. Caroline was right. He had done this. He couldn't even muster up any anger against Sweets. This time, he had no one to blame but himself.

"No, listen Booth, it's okay...It is, really. I'm glad I heard you, because it made me realize that I had been harboring a fantasy that you might change your mind. That you might want me too." Seeing that he was going to try to interrupt her again, Brennan continued quickly. It was imperative that she say all of this now, before he had the chance to comfort her with platitudes on his tongue, pity in his eyes. She would show him how strong she was. "It was good that I heard what you said, because it forced me to confront the fact that I could never be right for you. We just don't fit...and you have Catherine now, and she fits. She makes you happy, and Booth? I really, really want you to be happy. I would never purposely do anything to keep you from happiness." Brennan decided that it was time to switch to business mode, hoping that she might be able to end this evening with a shred of dignity. "So, all of this is to say that, I love you, and I'm sorry. I recognize the value of our partnership, and our work, so I have formulated a plan that I hope will allow us to continue that work in the future. I propose that we end our partnership temporarily. I could ask to work with another agent- perhaps Agent Perotta."

"Hell no, Bones. Look, there have been some pretty significant misunderstandings here-"

Brennan held out a hand to stop him, determined to have her say. "I know that I have expressed my displeasure at having to work with Agent Perotta in the past, but I believe that she enjoyed partnering with the Jeffersonian. Under the circumstances, I believe it is an acceptable compromise. The time apart will give me a chance to get my feelings under control, something I am sure I will be able to do with a little space, and it will give you time to focus on your relationship with Catherine. Once I feel that I am able to participate in our partnership while respecting the line you have drawn, I will contact you, and we can resume working together...I mean,if you still want to." She looked at her feet, afraid she had been presumptuous, before continuing. "I will speak with Cam first thing Monday morning so that she can facilitate the reassignment. That will give me the weekend to formulate a sufficient excuse that will not embarrass either of us.... So...that's it. You know what went wrong, and you know what I'm doing to rectify the situation. I'll be in contact with you as soon as I feel I am able."

She moved as if to close the door, but Booth blocked her with his foot. "No way Bones. This is not over. Don't you even want to hear what I have to say?"

"No, Booth," she shook her head, her control slipping, "I really don't. Please, I just want to go to bed. Please. Let me be."

_Let her be?! She basically just told me that my most improbably fantasy was, in fact, a reality, and she wants me to let her be? Not a chance. Not when I can fix this for both of us. _"Bones, you need to listen to me-"

"Booth," both her voice and her eyes were full of pain, "please." She was begging, and she never begged. "It hurts me to look at you, to be around you." Her breath was ragged, and she looked as though she might shatter. "_Please._ You're _hurting _me."

The step back he took was reflexive, a visceral reaction to her words and how she said them. It gave her the tiny window she needed to close the door on him, to close the door on this night.

**TBC**

**A/N: One more chapter left, and it will be up before Thursday, _inshallah_**


	11. The Modern Art of Negotiation

**A/N: So, this is it. Last chapter...I hope it doesn't disappoint. Thanks for sticking with me through my very first multi-chapter story. I can't tell you how much I have appreciated every one of your reviews and alerts. This has been fun. Oh, and I should also warn you that this story has, as my grandma would say, some _language._**

Chapter 11: The Modern Art of Negotiation

Booth stared dumbly at the closed door in front of him, immobilized by the pain in his partner's voice...for about ten seconds. His horror at how badly he had fucked this all up was quickly displaced by sheer joy at the realization that she loved him back. Suddenly, everything that just a few hours ago had seemed impossible was within his reach; he would be damned if he didn't grab it and hold on tight. A smile spread across his face and, for the first time in a year, he felt like he knew exactly who he was and where he belonged...and there was no way in hell a closed door was going stand in his way. Fighting the urge to do a little happy dance right there in her hallway, he opened the door and walked right through.

"I have a counter-offer."

"Booth!" Brennan whirled around at the sound of the opening door, looking stunned and confused. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but it was as if she didn't know where to start. Finally, she decided to go with the obvious. "How did you get in?"

He gave her a lopsided grin and stepped toward her. "You didn't lock the door. What have I told you about that Bones? Anyone could just wander in off the street, and I know you're some kind of ninja, but geez, must you insist on tempting fate? I mean, unless you left the door unlocked hoping I might walk back through it?"

_Why? Why is he torturing me?_ She did her best to conjure up a glare, despite her puffy eyes and wrecked nerves. "I assure you that my failure to lock the door was an oversight...one I will not be repeating in the future. Now please, go home. I've been humiliated enough for one night."

But he didn't leave. He just stood there looking so sexy and adorable and... _sure._ Then he said the last thing she expected to hear.

"I lied about Catherine. I haven't seen her in weeks. I threw out her number." His smile was warm and kind as he whispered, "Aren't you even interested in my counter-offer?"

For the second time in as many minutes, she was reduced to simply gaping at him. A million thoughts were racing through her brain, but she couldn't process any of them. She looked at him with questioning eyes. "Why did you lie?"

He met her gaze and said simply, "Because I thought you wanted me to."

They stood staring at each other for a few moments, the space between them vibrating with all that had gone too long unsaid. This time, it was Booth that broke the silence.

"Bones, I know it's late, and I know this night has been hell. You're upset with me, and you have every right to be. I'm not so thrilled with myself. Still, I'm asking you as a friend, as a _best friend_, to hear me out." He gestured toward her sofa. "Can we sit?"

She surprised him by walking to the couch and sitting down without a fight. Her posture was guarded, but the fact that she had yet to kick his ass had to be a good sign. He followed her, and as he sat down, the fabric of his jeans snagged on something metal. He reached down and pulled the offending object from between the cushions. It was an old yellow notebook with the name _Tempe Brennan_ printed carefully on the cover. "Hey, Bones, look at this! I think I found one of your old school notebooks. I should read through it, see if I can trace the development of your genius mind...."

Before he could open the cover, she yanked the book out of his hands. "It's mine," she said defiantly.

"Well, yeah, it's in your house, and it has your name on it...." _God, here I go again. What's wrong with me tonight? I'm trying to make things right with the woman I love, and I'm wasting time talking about a notebook?_

"It's where I write things." Her words were so soft, he almost couldn't make them out. "It's what I do when something bad happens."

It hit him what she was saying, and again he felt as though he were being gutted. "Like tonight."

She wouldn't look at him. "Yes, like tonight...or the night you were shot." She looked at him then, tears streaming down her face. "I did cry...you don't know...."

He couldn't take it. He couldn't stand being the cause of her tears. "I do, Bones. I do know. If anything ever happened to you.... I've imagined it so many times, all the ways I could lose you. I know, and I hate myself for doing that to you. I hate myself more for what you heard tonight. You have to know, Bones, that I didn't mean a word I said, okay? I was being a stupid asshole. I was trying to get Sweets to mind his own business. I am so, so, sorry. It had nothing to do with you and who I think, _know_, you are." He reached up to wipe away the tears as they rolled down her face. "I hate that I've made you cry. Please don't cry anymore."

She pushed away his hand. "No, those are the rules. I'm allowed to cry until I put the notebook back on its shelf." She looked at the ceiling. "Please go Booth. It's making it so much worse, you looking at me with pity."

She would have told him it was impossible, but he knew better- his heart broke clean in two when she told him, so matter-of-factly, that she was allowed to cry until she put away her notebook. Before he knew it, tears were filling his eyes as well. His voice was ragged as he spoke, "It's not pity, Bones. I don't pity you...God, I'm in awe of you..and I'm just so...." He gently grasped her chin in his hand and turned her face to him. She kept her tear-filled eyes on the ceiling, biting her trembling lip as he spoke. "I know I've messed this up..big time. Okay, I know. I would deserve it if you threw me out of here and refused to speak to me ever again. I've been stupid and self-absorbed, and I've made every possible wrong choice. But here's the thing," his voice was pleading. "You have to forgive me. Okay, Bones? You have to forgive me. You have to give me a chance to make this right, okay?"

She finally met his eyes, and he gave her a smile, asking softly, "Are you ready to hear my counter-offer yet?" She gave a faint nod, and he continued _(this is it, this one here's for the game), _"You suggested that we get rid of our partnership in order to maintain my line. I propose that we keep the partnership and get rid of the line."

"Booth," there was a note of panic in her tone, "you shouldn't...."

"No," he shook his head and continued to cradle her face in his hands, "come on. It's your turn to listen to me. If, when I'm finished, you still want me to leave, I promise I will, alright? So, here's what I've been meaning to say...I love you. Not in a professional way. That may have been the dumbest thing I've ever said, and don't..." he placed a finger over her mouth, stopping the comment that he knew was coming, "...start cataloguing all of the unintelligent things I've ever said. Now's not the time." His eyes sparkled, and he gave her a smile before continuing, "No, I love you in a very, very personal way. In a way that has nothing to do with chemistry, or endorphins, or comas, or brain scans, okay?"

She remained silent, as he ran his fingers through her hair. He looked into her eyes, searching for understanding. "We're both grown-ups, Bones, and we're all too familiar with the frailty of feelings. I want you to understand that when I say I love you, I'm not just talking about feelings- although I have plenty of those- I'm also talking about commitment. I know that if this were a movie, now would be the time when the guy would say something hugely romantic and over-the-top, like 'I can't live without you', but I'm not going to do that. You wouldn't buy it anyway. We both know better than that. We could most certainly live without each other...I just...I just don't _want _to. I want us to _choose_ not to. The thing is Bones, you make everything better. Every minute I spend with you, even if it's doing something horribly disgusting like digging a body out of a vat of grease, is better than any moment spent without you. Eating breakfast, doing paperwork, watching a movie with Parker- it's all better if you're there with me. So don't say we don't fit, okay? We do. We fit. We belong together, you and me. And I want you to know, that I will never purposely hurt you again...and if I ever accidentally hurt you, then you have to tell me the minute it happens, so I can fix it, okay?"

"Like the pie," she whispered.

Of all the ways she could have responded to his declaration of love, he hadn't anticipated a complete non-sequitur. He gave a panicked little laugh. "Huh? I'm not sure I follow?"

She looked puzzled, as though she were trying to work out a riddle in her mind. "Me either...," she answered slowly. "Gordon, Gordon was trying to make a point earlier, using a pie metaphor. I still don't quite understand what he was getting at, but it definitely had something to do with admitting that sometimes people misunderstand each other. Sometimes people get hurt, simply because there was a misunderstanding, and the best way to avoid that is to be honest about one's perception of the situation. You know, give the other person the benefit of the doubt. At least, that's what I think he was saying. Is that what you're saying Booth?"

He couldn't help but laugh. He was pouring out his heart, and she was trying to piece together a pie metaphor? God, he loved her. "Yeah, Bones. Something like that...but about everything else I said...I know it wasn't the most eloquent, romantic speech ever made, but it's 2:00AM on the longest night of my life, and I'm _thisclose_ to finding out if I'm going to get everything I've ever wanted...so...do you....I mean, I know what you said earlier, but I'm not sure....Have any thoughts, Bones?" He realized he was as nervous as a freshman, asking a senior cheerleader to the prom. "Say something. Anything. Even if it's about pie."

She laughed then and flashed him a smile...one that actually reached her eyes. He had said everything she'd ever dreamed of hearing. Sure, she could choose to be scared, to imagine all the ways that everything could go wrong..._or_, for once, she could choose to be happy. Of course there would be times when one or both of them messed up, but you didn't have to always make every right move, did you? Sometimes it was sufficient that you cared enough to _try._ "I find the terms of your offer satisfactory."

Booth was glad they were sitting down, because the relief and happiness that flooded his system at that moment would have surely knocked him to the ground. "Is that so?" He felt that they could finally return to teasing, to being _them. _"Well, in that case, Dr. Brennan, I think it's time to seal the deal."

She was positively giddy, but desperate not to show it. She moved in close and raised her eyebrows. "And how, Agent Booth, do you suggest that we do that?"

"I could think of lots of ways, but every last one of them includes this." He closed the miniscule distance remaining between them, his lips crashing down on hers with all the energy of five years of pent-up longing and desire. Her arms wound around his neck as he continued to stroke her face. She pulled back to catch her breathe, and he dropped small, sweet kisses on her nose, her forehead, her eyelids. She let out a breathy little moan, and his lips met hers once again in a kiss that was anything but sweet.

The next time he came up for air, her shirt had somehow managed to find its way off her body, revealing the sexiest emerald-colored bra he had ever seen, and his _Cocky_ belt buckle was lying on the floor. "Bones...this isn't why I came here tonight...I mean, if you want to take it slow."

"Seeley Booth," she gazed up from her position underneath him, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him back down, "I swear, if you try to leave now, I will hunt you down and shoot you with your own gun."

"Oh, thank God," he was back on top of her, lost in a tangle of hands and skin and clothes.

* * *

_Later. Much Later._

Temperance Brennan was on her side in her bed. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't alone. Her head was on her partner's chest, tucked under his chin. His arms held her close to him, as though he were cradling something precious. _This could work. I could do this forever._

"Bones," her partner teased, "I know you're still awake. Whatcha thinkin' about?"

She twisted in his arms and smiled up at him. "Monday," she answered honestly.

"Ugh," he groaned. "Why are you thinking about Monday on Saturday?"

"Well, I guess I was wondering," she traced the contours of his superiorly constructed mandible, "is this one of those things that's just ours?"

"Are you asking if I think we should tell everyone about our change in status from_ just partners_?"

She sighed, "Yes...I suppose. What if they want to split us up?"

He pulled her tighter. "Ha! Fat chance, Bones. No one is splitting us up. We're the best. Besides, they wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Take the Jeffersonian, for instance. That place has obviously never heard of a 'no fraternization' policy. It's like friggin' _General Hospital_ up in there."

"Oh! I know that one! It's that melodramatic television show with the bad acting. Sometimes Hodgins sneaks into Angela's office when she's out to watch it on the Angelatron."

Booth smirked. "He does, does he? Good to know, Bones. We can definitely use that. Anyway, the Jeffersonian isn't a problem, and neither is the FBI. Lucky for us, Hacker already made a point of declaring that there are no policies about FBI personnel dating staff from partnering entities. It would be bad form for him to take that back now. I would say we're in the clear."

"Still, it hardly seems fair after all the grief they've given us. Booth, can you imagine the gloating when they find out?"

_That's my girl._ "See, Bones, there's that competitive streak I know and love. We should stick it to 'em. Play with them the way they've been playing with us." His thoughts wandered back to what seemed like a lifetime ago and the last conversation he'd at his apartment. "Maybe not Caroline, though. We should probably tell her. I'm afraid she'll hurt me."

Brennan laughed and patted his head. Booth had told her about Caroline's role in the evening. She still hadn't decided how to thank the woman. _Would Caroline like a rolex?_ "Well, if we're telling Caroline, we should probably tell Angela."

Booth snorted in disbelief, "Angela! Telling Angela would be like taking out a billboard!"

"She's my best friend, and she nearly broke up with me over a pig. I don't want to take any chances."

"Fine," Booth agreed reluctantly. "Angela's in, but that means Hodgins is too."

"I know," she nodded, "and, you know, Cam's powers of observation have always been quite astute."

"Okay, we'll tell them all. Everyone but Sweets."

Brennan looked up at him with her best impression of puppy dog eyes. "Poor Sweets," she said sadly.

"Poor Sweets! Poor Sweets? Are you kidding me, Bones?" Booth looked at her in mock horror. "I cannot believe I have never noticed the depth of your soft-spot for the kid." He shook his head. "I expected more from you."

She laughed. "I'm willing to compromise on Sweets. We'll tell him, but that doesn't mean we can't make him squirm first. You know, play some sort of trick?"

"Bones, I like how you think. Deal. I draw the line at the squinterns though."

"The who?"

He gave her a patient sigh, "The squinterns. You know, the squinty interns? Crazy Daisy...Wendell...the dude with the fake accent...the other dude, with the real accent."

She laughed when she caught on. "You mean my students. I see. That's funny. Anyway, I concur. There is absolutely no reason to discuss my personal life with my students."

"Good. I win that one" Booth threw his hands up to signal a touchdown.

"Oh look who's competitive now! You know, one more thing...our behavior at work?"

He answered quickly. "Purely professional. We're not like the rest of those sex maniacs. We have self-control. Besides, we wouldn't want to lose the sexual tension completely. It would confuse everyone."

She nodded, "I think that's wise.... Our behavior at home?" She gave him a mischievous grin.

"Oh Bones," he dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder, "purely," followed by her collarbone, "unprofessional," and another on her neck. "You should rest up, you know. It's not Monday yet... and this weekend? It's all ours."

_**Fin**_

_**A/N: Thanks again for reading! I think I'll take a couple of weeks to just enjoy the show, but I'll be back soon. I already have another story outlined. Are you guys excited for Thursday, or what?**_


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